This Is My Kingdom Come
by loveofmylonglife
Summary: Modern AU where Ross is a rich playboy heir accused of his father's murder and Demelza is his lawyer
1. Chapter 1

This is My Kingdom Come – Poldark AU

"Ross Vennor Poldark, you are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark."

Ross sighed and sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair until it was all swept back.

"We need you to come with us, please, Sir."

He swung out of bed and yawned, shoving his feet into his slippers before getting up and looking at them.

"Give me time to get dressed at least, for God's sake."

This wasn't protocol, but the police were willing to let a few things slip for Ross Poldark. The representative for the prosecution sighed as he glared over at the man. Ross pulled on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, laced up black boots and picked up a black leather jacket for good measure. He moved towards the door, causing the police officers to part in front of him, following him down the stairs.

"Good morning, Jim. Juice?"

Jim bowed a little as he held out a tray with a crystal glass on it. Ross picked it up and took a few sips, swilling them around his mouth as he pulled on his jacket and shoved a pair of large black sunglasses on his face.

"That's enough now, please, Mr Poldark. The car is waiting for you outside."

"Alright, let me have my breakfast. Who's gonna give me breakfast when I'm in prison? Your mother?"

The officer was taken aback for a moment as Ross picked up a croissant from the same tray, biting half of it and throwing the other half back on the tray. Flakes tumbled down his shirt, which he brushed off before placing his hands behind his back.

"Come on. Are you gonna cuff me or what?"

The officer stepped forward and Ross heard the click of the cuffs closing around his wrists. They led him towards the door and as soon as it opened, they were met by a barrage of photographers. Some were paparazzi Ross recognised, some of them were holding mics with cubes around them from the BBC, Sky News and some other names he couldn't read. They were babbling the same thing, clustering around Ross as he lowered his head and made his way to the police car down the driveway.

"Mr Poldark? Ross! Ross Poldark! Ross, do you have anything you'd like to say about the rumour that you killed your father?"

"Was it for money? Why did you do it? Were you angry?"

"Ross! Ross, over here, Ross! Who are you wearing?"

The officers ducked his head as he got into the car and drove off, with the reporters running behind to try and catch up. Ross turned to see them losing on the car as it picked up speed.

"Thank God," he sighed, sitting back uncomfortably on his hands, kicking his legs up on the seat, "I must have worn this jacket a thousand times, they should know by now it's Tom Ford."

The paparazzi had somehow managed to follow the police car to the station and were there before it even arrived. As it pulled up to the station, Ross saw the familiar flashes through the window and the police officer opened the door, dragging him out.

"Alright, no need to manhandle me, mate."

His words were lost over the yelling from the journalists and photographers. The car door slammed and the police officers gathered around Ross, trying to obstruct the view and move him inside as quickly as possible.

"Ross, is there anything you have to say to people who accuse you of murder?"

Ross stuck his head out past the shoulders of the officers to stare at the melee of reporters.

"Yeah. Suck my dick!"

He laughed as he ducked his head and went inside, standing at the counter and waiting to be processed.

That had been half an hour ago. They'd taken his pictures and made him sign some sort of disclaimer form. He'd been sitting in an interrogation room for the last thirty minutes. He wasn't chained to the table, which made a difference, but he'd seen the familiar face of Detective Sanson before he'd entered the room. Ross sighed and swung on his chair, resting his feet on the edge of the table as he swung at a dangerous angle. Sanson was an old friend of Ross', he'd caught him on minor charges like DUI and possession before, but nothing stuck. Which made him even more eager to fuck him up the ass every time he managed to drag him into the police station.

"You have a visitor."

Ross barely noticed a police officer enter the room, until someone else barged past in a blur of tweed and fur.

"Verity! God, I'm so fucking glad to see you!"

"Me too, darling, me too."

His cousin sat down opposite him and grabbed his hands keenly. She turned to stare at the officer who'd brought her in.

"Yes? What is it?"

She shooed him away until he closed the door and then she turned back to Ross, taking her sunglasses off.

"It's a fuckfest out there. I almost broke my heel trying to get away from that lot."

"I know, they were at the house too," said Ross, setting his chair down on four legs as he leaned over the table.

"I cannot believe they've got you in here again," muttered Verity, lighting a cigarette between her lips, "you are allowed to smoke here, right? Fuck it, whatever."

She lit another cigarette and passed it to Ross who took a drag gratefully.

"Do you know how long you'll be here?"

Ross shrugged and played with the cigarette, resting his elbows on the table.

"I don't know. I guess they'll question me and then decide what to do with me. They can't keep me for longer than a day or something."

"It's such a shame, everyone was looking forward to seeing you at the London Collections. I'd booked in the Burberry party and everything, it'll be such a disappointment. I've called your lawyer just in case, he should be on his way. I also sorted the house, just in case they magically get a search warrant."

"I've been done for possession before, it'll hardly change their minds about me, but thanks anyway."

Verity picked up her quilted Chanel bag and took out some small boxes, pushing them across the table to him. He looked down with raised eyebrows.

"Cigarettes, Rizla, lighter. Shove it down your pants so they don't find out. You never know how long you could be here."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he grabbed all three, sticking them in his pockets.

"You're a star, you know that?"

"I know. Take care, okay? If you need anything, tell me."

Ross nodded as she got up and put her sunglasses back on, leaning over to brush her cheek against his.

"Mwah. Bye, darling."

He raised a hand to wave her off and she fixed her coat, straightening out her hair.

"Those bastards outside won't even let me get into my car, I'm telling you."

"They were asking me the most inane questions earli—"

Ross faded out as Detective Sanson appeared at the door, and he dutifully put out his cigarette. A smile was plastered across Sanson's face as he addressed Verity.

"Thank you, Miss Poldark, but your time is up, I'm afraid."

Verity ignored him and turned around to look at Ross.

"Take care, sweetie."

She waved as she pushed past Sanson and walked down the hallway, the click clack of her heels audible until she left the building. Sanson sat down in front of Ross where Verity had been a moment ago and set a recorder on the table, pressing a button.

"This is Detective Matthew Sanson here, conducting an interview with…."

"Ross Vennor Poldark," recited Ross tiredly.

"At 9:15 AM on Saturday 12th June 2016. Mr Poldark is under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark, his father. Mr Poldark, where were you on the evening of January 2nd 2016?"

"At home."

"Is there anyone who can act as a witness for this?"

"My cat."

Sanson ignored him.

"Where was your father at this time?"

"Away on a business trip in Cornwall."

"And you were not in Cornwall?"

"No. I was at home."

"We have reason to believe that you arrived in Cornwall sometime between 6-7 PM on the evening of January 2nd and entered the residence in which your father was spending the night, namely your ancestral home. Do you have anything to say about this?"

"No. Because I wasn't there."

"Your DNA was found on Mr Joshua Poldark's jacket. Do you have anything to say about that?"

"Yeah. It was my jacket he borrowed, of course it had my fucking DNA on it."

"If you could refrain from swearing, it would be appreciated. Joshua Poldark's cause of death was determined as an artificially induced heart attack caused by a high level of drugs in his system. You have previously been arrested on possession of Class A controlled substances, which match those found in Joshua Poldark's toxicology report. What do you have to say about this?"

"Perhaps Dad was a fan of the good stuff."

Sanson's face soured as he watched Ross stare at a grilled window, leaning over the table and tapping his feet on the floor in a bizarre rhythm.

"The interview is adjourned at 9:25 AM."

He clicked the recorder again and Ross turned to him in surprise.

"So soon? I was so hoping we'd talk more."

Sanson didn't respond, but got up and left the room. A short while later, Ross' lawyer appeared at the door.

"Dwight? What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I got caught up with the paps outside. How's it going?"

"Hilarious, as usual. Our friend Sanson just came in and asked me whether I'd killed Dad. Which I haven't, so that's what I said and he evidently didn't believe me."

Dwight sighed and sat down opposite Ross.

"Good news is that you're being released on bail. They just don't have enough evidence to charge you for anything, your DNA wasn't found on the syringe and there are no concrete witnesses placing you at the scene of the crime. Bad news is that you're under police guard wherever you go. They were considering house arrest but I managed to wrangle it."

Ross grinned and high fived his friend, squeezing his hand.

"That's awesome. So I'm free to go, right? Right?"

Dwight nodded and grinned too, getting up and walking out of the room with his client.

"Hey, light me a cigarette too, will you? You're harder work than law school."

Ross had spent most of the rest of the day at home, where a police officer had come to fit a tag around his ankle. There'd be police with him at all times, but if he was ever out of view and went somewhere he wasn't meant to, the tag would start beeping and call the police to his location. He wasn't that bothered, it was covered by the cuff of his jeans and it wasn't bulky or annoying.

The constant police presence, on the other hand, was. Dwight had left after chatting Ross through his options and Ross had spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch flicking channels while Jim cleaned up some of the mess from his party the night before. His head ached and he tried massaging his temples while watching Game of Thrones, but it hadn't helped. Flecks of white powder adorned the coffee table in front of him, which Jim wiped clean in one sweep.

After he was finished, Jim threw himself down on the couch next to Ross.

"Anything happened so far? Weren't you watching Blindspot earlier?"

He shoved his hand in a packet of sharing crisps sandwiched between Ross and himself. Ross yawned and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

"I got bored after Oscar shot Mayfair. This episode of Game of Thrones is good, though. Emilia Clarke gets naked at some point, apparently."

Jim watched Ross deliver his usual humour while scrunching up his face and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"I know a good cure for a hangover."

He picked up Ross' rolled but unsmoked joint up from the table, lighting it and handing it to him. Ross chuckled.

"So the cure for cocaine is weed?"

"Something like that."

Ross took a drag and let it fill up his lungs as he tipped his head back. He could almost hear the police officer's internal screaming and after a few minutes, the air around them both smelled strongly of marijuana, causing the officer to excuse himself and take up post down the hallway.

Ross yawned again and stared at his now clean living room. The TV was on quietly in the background, but he wasn't really watching it. It was 1 AM and he didn't really know where the time had gone. He wasn't one for early nights, but he was about to hitch himself up off the couch until his phone began to ring. The number was unknown, so he curiously answered the call.

"Hi, is this Ross Poldark?"

"Yeah, it's me. Who's calling?"

"Ummm…..hi, it's Alyssa. I came to your party last night. I was just wondering if I could….have my underwear back?"

Ross took another drag on his joint, exhaling the smoke before answering.

"Sure. Come over and pick it up."

"When are you at home?"

"Right now. I'm also free."

Alyssa replied and Ross ended the call, shoving his phone in his back pocket as he got up.

"I'm going upstairs," he called to the police officer as he left the room, "and Jim, if a girl called Alyssa shows up, show her to my bedroom. I'm sure she remembers where it is anyway."

"Excuse me, Mr Poldark, are you expecting a visitor this late at night?" asked the officer, looking up at him from the hallway.

Ross stopped in the middle of the stairs and looked down.

"So what if I am? Who are you, my Dad? Oh, no, sorry, he's dead. You might have me under house arrest or some shit, so I'm not allowed to leave my house but that doesn't mean that people can't come to visit me."

The officer opened his mouth to reply, but Ross took a drag on his joint and purposefully blew the smoke out towards him. The officer glared. Ross didn't care.

"Roll yourself some, Jim," he called as he trudged up the stairs.

Jim picked up Ross' unfinished mug of tea as he disappeared and left the room to take it to the kitchen. The officer watched him and Jim turned.

"One thing you'll learn, officer, is that Ross does whatever he likes, and no one can tell him otherwise. Don't try, I don't recommend it."

"Just who does he think he is? Treating a police officer like that! He's not above the law! I don't care if he's a Poldark or not, he'll learn how to treat people with respect!"

"Yes, Sir. I'll have a word with him, Sir."

"While you're doing that, my officer has resigned from his post! I have no one with Poldark right now and no one I can despatch until later in the day! And I promise you, if he so much as sets foot outside his house, I'll drag him to court by his absurdly expensive collar!"

"Yes, S…."

Dwight trailed off as Sanson slammed the phone down. He sighed and sat down at his desk, sipping his morning coffee and rubbing his eyes. His two assistant lawyers stared at him in worry.

"Are you okay, Sir?" asked Jinny carefully, sliding a plate of biscuits across the desk at him, "Do you need anything?"

"No, you two go work on the case in Room A."

Jinny and Demelza did as he asked, sitting down at the table and taking out their files. They sipped their coffee in silence, tapping away on their laptops.

"What did you do last night?"

"Game of Thrones," replied Demelza robotically, narrowing her eyes to stare at the screen.

"Hell, yeah. I'd do that too. Specifically one Khal Drogo."

Demelza snorted and leaned back in her chair, sipping her mug of tea as she looked over at her friend.

"How's it going?"

"Not great," replied Jinny, handing Demelza a file, "I can't find anything that we can use as evidence."

Demelza sighed and opened up the file, comparing it with hers and flicking through it.

"To be perfectly honest with you," she murmured, flicking pages, "I think he is guilty. I don't think anything's that black and white, but the prosecution has a lot of evidence against him. His DNA was found on Joshua's jacket and they've got witnesses placing him not just in Cornwall, but entering Nampara just before Joshua was found dead by his maid. Mr Enys only got him bail on the fact that those witnesses weren't prepared to testify at the trial and also that there's no record of how Ross could have found his way to Cornwall in the first place. No train tickets and his car wasn't spotted at the house either."

"To be fair, he's got loads of cars. He could have used any of them and no one would have known."

"Good point," murmured Demelza, resting forward on her arms, "there's no use taking registration numbers, we don't have anything to match them to. The only thing that works in his favour is the fact that his fingerprints weren't found on the murder weapon, but the drugs inside it match those he's known to use on a regular basis. Things are looking bad for him right now."

Jinny got up and started checking her phone, sipping her coffee in the process.

"He's also a massive bastard, let's not forget that. He's the it boy of London, everyone loves him. And it's twisted, but I think they love him even more now that he's been accused of murdering his own father. Just look at his Instagram."

Jinny thrust the phone in Demelza's direction and she cast her eye over it.

"You don't have to show me. I may or may not follow him," she grinned, causing Jinny to gasp.

"You can't follow our client on Instagram!"

"I couldn't help it! And in my defence, I'd been following him since before he became our client. Come on, he's a multi-billionaire playboy! Have you seen the pictures his posts? Yachts in Cannes, fast cars, jet planes! Even his socks cost more than my entire wardrobe!"

Jinny laughed and scrolled through pictures of Ross with various friends in various parties, polo tournaments, fashion weeks. Whatever was hot in London, he was there. Casual, suited and booted, whatever he wore, he seemed to look great.

"He just….parties, doesn't he? I mean, I've known about him for a long time and I know he's the pinnacle of the society circle, but does he actually have a job?" asked Jinny, staring at a shirtless photo of him.

"He says he does something to do with fashion in his interviews, but otherwise, he does just party, yes. A party isn't a party unless Ross Poldark is there. London's number one spoilt rich kid," stated Demelza, getting up and brushing her trousers off.

"Now, are you going to do some work or shall I go and tell Mr Enys you've been ogling our client's Instagram?"

Jinny laughed and set her phone down, pulling her laptop closer to her. Demelza raised her eyebrows as she picked up the phone with the shirtless Ross still on it.

"I'll have that, thank you."

They both broke out laughing until the conference phone in the middle of the table began to ring. Demelza recognised Detective Sanson's number and groaned, pressing the speakerphone button.

"Good morning, Detective Sanson, this is Demelza Carne speaking. How can I help you?"

"Oh, Miss Carne! Hello there! How are you? I haven't spoken to you in a long time!"

"Yes, not since last week, Detective. I'm well, thank you. Did you want words with Mr Enys?"

He replied in the affirmative and Demelza knocked on the glass walls of the room she was in, attracting Dwight's attention and calling him over. She mimicked being a big, burly man with a moustache and Dwight buried his face in his hands, getting up and walking over into the room.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Your client's tag is going off. I suggest you find out why this instant. I've sent police officers to the scene, but I think you're needed."

"Yes, Sir."

Dwight growled as he stabbed the off button, slamming his hands on the desk in irritation.

"Can't Ross just sit on his arse for one day?!"

"Will you be going over?" asked Demelza in concern.

Dwight looked up at her, bursting with insane laughter.

"Go over there? I've just been fielding crazy calls from George Warleggan who wants to bring the trial date up! And we hardly have anything in Ross' defence and he is not helping his own case!"

Dwight looked over as his desk phone began to ring again. He marched out, calling to Demelza.

"You're going over there. Grab a car."

Demelza stared at Dwight, then at Jinny. Jinny stared back.

"Yes, yes, yes! Gooooo! Go!" she pushed Demelza out of the room, "Go!"

Demelza picked up her bag and file, blanching at Dwight's urgent stare. She jogged out of the office in her heels, picking up a car outside. Out of all the clients she'd encountered in her career, she didn't think she was quite ready for this one.

Ross sighed as two officers grabbed his arm, leading him forcefully down the pathway. Alyssa stared, hiding her underwear behind her back.

"Bye!" called Ross, walking down the road. Alyssa waved off and shut the door.

The officers marched Ross all the way down the road and down another one to his house, where another car was waiting. A girl got out and followed them into the house.

"Excuse me," muttered Ross, shaking their hands off his arm. He dusted himself off and turned around to see a small girl dressed in a black trouser suit. Her curly red hair was piled on her head in a tight, sleek bun and she was carrying a black handbag and a file. He looked her up and down oddly.

"And you are?"

"Demelza Carne," she extended a hand, "I work for your defence counsel, Dwight Enys. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Ross sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was willing to give her time if Dwight had sent her. He turned to look at the officers.

"What are you still doing here? I'm home, aren't I?"

They looked at each other and started to leave. Ross was slightly surprised. It was lunch time and there were no officers around to check if he was at home. This was a good start.

"Is there a place we could sit and talk quietly?"

He turned to face Demelza and walked through into the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the island. Demelza opted to sit on a chair, taking out her notebook and files, spreading them over the table carefully. She snuck a look at him. He was surprisingly normal, wearing black jeans and a white t shirt. Stubble peppered his face, his hair was the same mess she'd seen in his Instagram photos and she had a sudden urge to reach out and bury her hands in it, but she refrained. He was undeniably good looking in a couldn't give a shit sort of way.

She'd been impressed by the size of the house when she'd pulled up, but the inside was another story altogether. It was cleaner than she would have expected and the kitchen was large and bright with steel fittings and ceramics everywhere, very white, very clean. A dining table graced one side which opened out onto a patio. Her eyes were drawn back to Ross, who was sitting on the island, swinging his legs and puffing on a cigarette. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl behind him and began chomping noisily.

"We should start with some formalities. My name is Demelza Carne, I'm a lawyer and I work on behalf of Dwight Enys, who is your appointed legal counsel. I've been assigned to your case and I'll be working on it until it goes to trial. As you know, you're being tried on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark, your father. I know Mr Enys has gone through your options with you yesterday, so I won't repeat that. I will confirm that the prosecution and the judge have decided that there is enough evidence to warrant a trial with you as the primary suspect. Do you understand this?"

Ross was busy drumming his feet on the island. He set his apple core down and nodded. Demelza carried on.

"You've been placed under police guard since yesterday and I understand you're wearing an ankle tag. The police officer which constituted your guard resigned his post yesterday and I will be filling in from now on, to make sure you don't violate the terms of your custody."

Ross cranked his head up to stare at her.

"You're filling in? Is that even allowed? You're a lawyer from my legal team."

"Your ankle tag is functioning properly and Mr Enys has managed to convince Detective Sanson that this would be sufficient. He believes you'd react better to being under constant guard by someone who's advocating for you. The police officers didn't just leave because you told them to, they were doing their jobs. Anyway, the Met police seem to make allowances for Ross Poldark."

Demelza's stare was hard as ice and Ross raised his eyebrow at her. She didn't seem to like him very much.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, offering a mock salute and a wink.

Demelza couldn't resist a small smile, but turned back to her papers.

"I'm far too young to be a ma'am. I'm not the Queen. Continuing on, you're not officially under house arrest, meaning that you may leave the house for certain necessities, such as groceries, doctor's appointments and other such things, as long as I accompany you. I'll now move on to questions about the case. Would you like to take a break?"

Ross declined and Demelza was about to proceed when she heard footsteps and a man casually dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt appeared, carrying plastic bags into the kitchen.

"Jim, what's good?"

Ross raised his hand to high five his friend and Jim set the bags on the island behind Ross, unpacking the groceries one by one. Demelza stared at Ross. Ross looked back.

"Oh, yeah, by the way. This is Jim, friend, cook, mess….cleaner. Jim, this is….Dahlia or something, she's a lawyer, Dwight sent her."

Jim leaned back sunnily with a pack of eggs in his hand.

"Hi, Dahlia! Nice to meet you, I'm Jim."

"Hello, Jim. My name isn't Dahlia, it's Demelza. It's nice to meet you too. Should we take this somewhere else, Mr Poldark?" asked Demelza curtly.

Ross looked at her in surprise, puffing away on his cigarette before grabbing another bag of Thai Sweet Chilli crisps, opening it noisily.

"Why? Jim's making lunch. And since you'll be here all day, you should eat some too. What are you making, Jim?"

"At first I was like, let's make egg fried rice, then I thought that's so boring. I'm gonna make a stir fry type thing, I bought tons of shiitake mushrooms. But there'll be egg in it too, I know you like egg. Do you like egg, Dahlia?"

Demelza's jaw hardened uncomfortably and Ross paid her no attention.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jim. Now, Mr Poldark, if you could tell me why you violated the terms of your house arrest?"

"I needed to put my bins out."

Ross and Jim both snorted and high fived each other. Jim cracked up and set a pan of water on the stove to boil.

"Like you've ever put bins out! Do you even know what they look like?!"

"Gentlemen."

Ross made a mock hushing noise and turned back to Demelza seriously.

"Why did you violate the terms of your house arrest?"

"Reasons."

"I need to know those reasons, please. Everything that we're discussing can be used to help you during your trial. The prosecution will use this violation as evidence of your recklessness and disregard for authority."

"Do you want the truth? A girl stayed over last night and left her underwear here. Again. So I had to go over to her house a few streets away and give it back to her because it's kind of awkward having two one night stands and she'd already asked for it back the first time and….you know, I guess she forgot it again, so I had to go—"

"So she went home without any underwear on?"

Ross looked up at Demelza in surprise, a smirk finding its way across his face. Even Jim turned his head from the stove.

"I mean, who was this girl and why wasn't she able to come and collect it herself?" corrected Demelza quickly, turning back to her papers.

"First, her name was….Amanda or….something beginning with A, second, it's kind of awkward to come over again to collect your underwear and thirdly, yes, she went home without underwear. I think it's kinda hot when a girl doesn't wear underwear, but whatever floats your boat. If you're into…like…I dunno, bondage underwear or some shit, go for it."

"What the fuck does bondage underwear even look like?" asked Jim with a laugh, beginning to chop vegetables.

"I dunno. Leathery? Shiny? Strappy?" offered Ross, making Jim laugh even more. Demelza glared at the pair.

"Mr Poldark, if you're not going to take this seriously, should we do it at a time where you feel more sober?"

"I'm not high or drunk, I'm just hung….well….you know, maybe I am a little high, but I'm used to that. Let's finish this some other time. Besides, we've got a party to go to in the evening so I'll be napping upstairs after lunch."

He hopped off the island and walked over to the stove, picking up some cucumber slices to shove unceremoniously in his mouth.

"A party?" she said incredulously, getting up, "I'm afraid you're not allowed to go to any party, Mr Poldark. I clearly stated to you the terms of your arrest. You're only allowed to leave the house for necessities."

Ross walked over to her and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Two things," he said, standing in front of her, "First, I'm Ross, not Mr Poldark. Secondly," he said, walking backwards and grinning, a cigarette dangling from one hand as he opened up his arms like he was offering her a hug.

"Parties are always necessities. Welcome to my world, Demelza Carne."

And it was some world. Maybe Demelza had been too straight laced all her life. Smoking pot wasn't going to get her through law school. But Ross Poldark's world was something else. She sat on the chair in the kitchen as Jim cooked up a stir fry in the background, thinking about what she'd just witnessed. When she saw his Instagram pictures, she sometimes wondered whether his life really was like that. Was he really filthy rich and spending his whole time getting high, drinking and having sex?

Apparently, he was. It was like literally entering another world when she'd stepped into the house. The house itself had high ceilings and all the modern fixtures you could ever wish for. She took herself on a small tour, peeking into each ground floor room. There were wooden floors and large mantlepieces, minimalist furniture in every room but the living room which seemed to be the most used. There, there were comfy sofas, coffee tables, a blazing wood fire and rug, and a huge TV. The curtains were drawn and two large lamps dimly lit the room, with smaller little lamps providing hardly any light on the wall.

"Is this where Mr Poldark spends most of his time?" she asked Jim, motioning through the kitchen door into the living room. Jim answered while stirring the sauce carefully.

"Yeah, we mostly chill in the living room. He spends a lot of time upstairs in his bedroom, though. We also eat in the living room, Ross only uses this table and the dining room when he has friends or guests over."

"And how often is that?"

"Often," grinned Jim, "and thank goodness that I don't cook for that, he always gets catering."

Jim decanted the stir fry into three bowls, pouring sauce over the top before walking in, setting them down on a tray on the coffee table. Demelza followed him. She was hungry, she hadn't brought anything with her. It wouldn't be too much of bad manners to eat, especially since Jim had made some for her.

"Ross! Food's ready!"

Ross came down the stairs a few moments later, picking up a bowl and throwing himself down on the couch, turning the TV on. Demelza watched him eat as she took her seat.

"You can't be comfortable in that suit. Do you want to get changed?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just going to eat and get on with my work.


	2. Chapter 2

Ross sighed as two officers grabbed his arm, leading him forcefully down the pathway. Alyssa stared, hiding her underwear behind her back.

"Bye!" called Ross, walking down the road. Alyssa waved off and shut the door.

The officers marched Ross all the way down the road and down another one to his house, where another car was waiting. A girl got out and followed them into the house.

"Excuse me," muttered Ross, shaking their hands off his arm. He dusted himself off and turned around to see a small girl dressed in a black trouser suit. Her curly red hair was piled on her head in a tight, sleek bun and she was carrying a black handbag and a file. He looked her up and down oddly.

"And you are?"

"Demelza Carne," she extended a hand, "I work for your defence counsel, Dwight Enys. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Ross sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was willing to give her time if Dwight had sent her. He turned to look at the officers.

"What are you still doing here? I'm home, aren't I?"

They looked at each other and started to leave. Ross was slightly surprised. It was lunch time and there were no officers around to check if he was at home. This was a good start.

"Is there a place we could sit and talk quietly?"

He turned to face Demelza and walked through into the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the island. Demelza opted to sit on a chair, taking out her notebook and files, spreading them over the table carefully. She snuck a look at him. He was surprisingly normal, wearing black jeans and a white t shirt. Stubble peppered his face, his hair was the same mess she'd seen in his Instagram photos and she had a sudden urge to reach out and bury her hands in it, but she refrained. He was undeniably good looking in a couldn't give a shit sort of way.

She'd been impressed by the size of the house when she'd pulled up, but the inside was another story altogether. It was cleaner than she would have expected and the kitchen was large and bright with steel fittings and ceramics everywhere, very white, very clean. A dining table graced one side which opened out onto a patio. Her eyes were drawn back to Ross, who was sitting on the island, swinging his legs and puffing on a cigarette. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl behind him and began chomping noisily.

"We should start with some formalities. My name is Demelza Carne, I'm a lawyer and I work on behalf of Dwight Enys, who is your appointed legal counsel. I've been assigned to your case and I'll be working on it until it goes to trial. As you know, you're being tried on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark, your father. I know Mr Enys has gone through your options with you yesterday, so I won't repeat that. I will confirm that the prosecution and the judge have decided that there is enough evidence to warrant a trial with you as the primary suspect. Do you understand this?"

Ross was busy drumming his feet on the island. He set his apple core down and nodded. Demelza carried on.

"You've been placed under police guard since yesterday and I understand you're wearing an ankle tag. The police officer which constituted your guard resigned his post yesterday and I will be filling in from now on, to make sure you don't violate the terms of your custody."

Ross cranked his head up to stare at her.

"You're filling in? Is that even allowed? You're a lawyer from my legal team."

"Your ankle tag is functioning properly and Mr Enys has managed to convince Detective Sanson that this would be sufficient. He believes you'd react better to being under constant guard by someone who's advocating for you. The police officers didn't just leave because you told them to, they were doing their jobs. Anyway, the Met police seem to make allowances for Ross Poldark."

Demelza's stare was hard as ice and Ross raised his eyebrow at her. She didn't seem to like him very much.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, offering a mock salute and a wink.

Demelza couldn't resist a small smile, but turned back to her papers.

"I'm far too young to be a ma'am. I'm not the Queen. Continuing on, you're not officially under house arrest, meaning that you may leave the house for certain necessities, such as groceries, doctor's appointments and other such things, as long as I accompany you. I'll now move on to questions about the case. Would you like to take a break?"

Ross declined and Demelza was about to proceed when she heard footsteps and a man casually dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt appeared, carrying plastic bags into the kitchen.

"Jim, what's good?"

Ross raised his hand to high five his friend and Jim set the bags on the island behind Ross, unpacking the groceries one by one. Demelza stared at Ross. Ross looked back.

"Oh, yeah, by the way. This is Jim, friend, cook, mess….cleaner. Jim, this is….Dahlia or something, she's a lawyer, Dwight sent her."

Jim leaned back sunnily with a pack of eggs in his hand.

"Hi, Dahlia! Nice to meet you, I'm Jim."

"Hello, Jim. My name isn't Dahlia, it's Demelza. It's nice to meet you too. Should we take this somewhere else, Mr Poldark?" asked Demelza curtly.

Ross looked at her in surprise, puffing away on his cigarette before grabbing another bag of Thai Sweet Chilli crisps, opening it noisily.

"Why? Jim's making lunch. And since you'll be here all day, you should eat some too. What are you making, Jim?"

"At first I was like, let's make egg fried rice, then I thought that's so boring. I'm gonna make a stir fry type thing, I bought tons of shiitake mushrooms. But there'll be egg in it too, I know you like egg. Do you like egg, Dahlia?"

Demelza's jaw hardened uncomfortably and Ross paid her no attention.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jim. Now, Mr Poldark, if you could tell me why you violated the terms of your house arrest?"

"I needed to put my bins out."

Ross and Jim both snorted and high fived each other. Jim cracked up and set a pan of water on the stove to boil.

"Like you've ever put bins out! Do you even know what they look like?!"

"Gentlemen."

Ross made a mock hushing noise and turned back to Demelza seriously.

"Why did you violate the terms of your house arrest?"

"Reasons."

"I need to know those reasons, please. Everything that we're discussing can be used to help you during your trial. The prosecution will use this violation as evidence of your recklessness and disregard for authority."

"Do you want the truth? A girl stayed over last night and left her underwear here. Again. So I had to go over to her house a few streets away and give it back to her because it's kind of awkward having two one night stands and she'd already asked for it back the first time and….you know, I guess she forgot it again, so I had to go—"

"So she went home without any underwear on?"

Ross looked up at Demelza in surprise, a smirk finding its way across his face. Even Jim turned his head from the stove.

"I mean, who was this girl and why wasn't she able to come and collect it herself?" corrected Demelza quickly, turning back to her papers.

"First, her name was….Amanda or….something beginning with A, second, it's kind of awkward to come over again to collect your underwear and thirdly, yes, she went home without underwear. I think it's kinda hot when a girl doesn't wear underwear, but whatever floats your boat. If you're into…like…I dunno, bondage underwear or some shit, go for it."

"What the fuck does bondage underwear even look like?" asked Jim with a laugh, beginning to chop vegetables.

"I dunno. Leathery? Shiny? Strappy?" offered Ross, making Jim laugh even more. Demelza glared at the pair.

"Mr Poldark, if you're not going to take this seriously, should we do it at a time where you feel more sober?"

"I'm not high or drunk, I'm just hungry….well….you know, maybe I am a little high, but I'm used to that. Let's finish this some other time. Besides, we've got a party to go to in the evening so I'll be napping upstairs after lunch."

He hopped off the island and walked over to the stove, picking up some cucumber slices to shove unceremoniously in his mouth.

"A party?" she said incredulously, getting up, "I'm afraid you're not allowed to go to any party, Mr Poldark. I clearly stated to you the terms of your arrest. You're only allowed to leave the house for necessities."

Ross walked over to her and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Two things," he said, standing in front of her, "First, I'm Ross, not Mr Poldark. Secondly," he said, walking backwards and grinning, a cigarette dangling from one hand as he opened up his arms like he was offering her a hug.

"Parties are always necessities. Welcome to my world, Demelza Carne."

And it was some world. Maybe Demelza had been too straight laced all her life. Smoking pot wasn't going to get her through law school. But Ross Poldark's world was something else. She sat on the chair in the kitchen as Jim cooked up a stir fry in the background, thinking about what she'd just witnessed. When she saw his Instagram pictures, she sometimes wondered whether his life really was like that. Was he really filthy rich and spending his whole time getting high, drinking and having sex?

Apparently, he was. It was like literally entering another world when she'd stepped into the house. The house itself had high ceilings and all the modern fixtures you could ever wish for. She took herself on a small tour, peeking into each ground floor room. There were wooden floors and large mantlepieces, minimalist furniture in every room but the living room which seemed to be the most used. There, there were comfy sofas, coffee tables, a blazing wood fire and rug, and a huge TV. The curtains were drawn and two large lamps dimly lit the room, with smaller little lamps providing hardly any light on the wall.

"Is this where Mr Poldark spends most of his time?" she asked Jim, motioning through the kitchen door into the living room. Jim answered while stirring the sauce carefully.

"Yeah, we mostly chill in the living room. He spends a lot of time upstairs in his bedroom, though. We also eat in the living room, Ross only uses this table and the dining room when he has friends or guests over."

"And how often is that?"

"Often," grinned Jim, "and thank goodness that I don't cook for that, he always gets catering."

Demelza listened and took her phone out, texting Jinny.

 _I'm at his house now. It's so beautiful inside, I wish you could see it._

 _What's he like?_

 _First class asshole. In an annoying but equally nice way. All he's done so far is not answer my questions and eat profusely. He also wants to go to a party tonight when I've told him he's not allowed._

 _What party? Perhaps you should call Dwight and ask him about it._

Jim decanted the stir fry into three bowls, pouring sauce over the top before walking in, setting them down on a tray on the coffee table. Demelza followed him. She was hungry, she hadn't brought anything with her. It wouldn't be too much of bad manners to eat, especially since Jim had made some for her.

"Ross! Food's ready!"

Ross came down the stairs a few moments later, picking up a bowl and throwing himself down on the couch, turning the TV on. Demelza watched him eat as she took her seat.

"You can't be comfortable in that suit. Do you want to get changed?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just going to eat and get on with my work. Is it possible that I could ask you some questions about the case after lunch, Mr Poldark?"

Ross made a 'hm' sound through a mouthful of food as he stared at the screen, pulling away reluctantly to look at her.

"What?"

"Is it possible I could ask you some questions about the case after lunch?"

"Nope, I'm sorry. I already told you I'm taking a nap after lunch. We're going to a party in the evening, I gotta look fresh."

Demelza stared as he wolfed down his noodles. His dad was dead, he was accused of murdering him and the only thing this guy seemed to care about was eating food, sleeping and going out.

"So when will you have time to answer some of my questions? They will help your case in court, you know."

Ross snorted and finished his bowl, setting it on the table as he cracked open a can of beer.

"So what? I didn't kill anyone, let alone my dad. If that's not what the jury thinks, then so what? What's the worst I could get? Ten, fifteen years in prison? I'd only serve a few and then get brought out for good behaviour or some shit," he said, swigging from the can before kicking his feet back up on the table.

Demelza was incensed as she stared at him. She looked at Jim sitting next to her but all he did was watch the TV and eat his food, as if he was oblivious to what Ross had said. Was he really willing to go to jail? Did he care that little about what was going on?

"You do realise you could get imprisonment without parole? This isn't a laughing matter, Mr Poldark. This is the highest profile murder case in the UK at the moment, we're dealing with media who want a speedy trial and a judge who'll be under pressure to give a sentence. I'll be frank with you, all the evidence points towards you. The DNA, the sighting at the house!"

Demelza was angry by now and set her untouched bowl on the table too. Ross took no notice and got up, yawning and stretching. Despite how pissed she was, her eyes flicked to the strip of skin that was exposed between his jeans and the hem of his shirt as he raised his arms. She tried not to stare at the waistband of his boxers.

"So you think I'm guilty? Pretty rich coming from my defence counsel, no?" he asked, picking up his beer.

"It doesn't matter what I think. All the evidence points towards a guilty conviction," she said, standing up and staring at him aggressively, "you have means, the drugs you seem to love so much which you were arrested for possessing a few months ago, you have opportunity, no one can confirm your alibi and you have a whole range of cars you can use to become anonymous and lastly, you have motive, your—"

"Dad's large inheritance, right?"

Ross looked at her as he finished her sentence and his stare was no longer the carefree, relaxed one it had been since she'd met him. His face had hardened and he seemed serious for the first time all day.

"I didn't kill my Dad. I didn't need to. He gave me everything I asked for anyway."

"But not your inheritance. He gave you money, but your inheritance is something else altogether. Real estate in some of the most exclusive places in the world, his entire art collection worth millions, boats and—"

"So you think I killed my dad because I wanted property and paintings?"

The room fell silent and even Jim had stopped eating. He was staring between the two of them as the TV blared softly in the background. Demelza didn't know what to say. Ross stepped forward and lowered his voice to a dangerous tone. His gaze was direct and unsettling. He wasn't the careless playboy he'd been in the kitchen. He was serious now, his posture had changed.

"Paintings and property and cars and boats, they're ten a penny in my world, Miss Demelza Carne. My father, however, was not."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the open back of the living room, walking up the stairs. Demelza watched him. He stopped and ducked to look at Jim.

"Also, get my lawyer a dress, Jim. If you're coming to the party, you're not coming like that."

Demelza looked down at her black trouser suit and white shirt.

"I'm a lawyer. This is how lawyers look."

"Do you think I want to take my lawyer to a party?" said Ross, staring at her from the railings, "You're only coming because you have to. What am I going to say? Hi, I'm Ross and this is my grandma, Gladys?"

Jim snorted and ate his noodles.

"Ross is right, you know. If you're going to Mayfair, you need to change your outfit. Don't make it that obvious that you're his lawyer. I mean, even police officers are plain clothes, right? Can you pop back home and grab a party dress?"

Demelza looked at Jim in astonishment.

"I don't do party dresses.

"Yeah, she's too busy working," sighed Ross, sitting down on a step while Jim and Demelza talked it over, "Look, Jim, why don't you dig out one of Verity's dresses or something? I'm sure she's left some around here or something. See if they fit her. Problem solved."

"That's a good idea. If you've finished your lunch, you can come up with me and we'll find something for you to wear. You can conclude your tour of the house too."

Ross turned his head as he got back up to go up the stairs.

"Tour of the house? You been sneaking around, Miss Carne?"

"What? No! No, I just looked around a few of the ground floor rooms, just to see what I was working with in terms of knowing where you are. I haven't been upstairs yet."

"Well, that's good. My bedroom's invitation only."

He winked and proceeded up the stairs. Demelza suddenly found herself flushing bright red. She sat down and picked up her bowl of noodles.

"Yes, Mr Enys. No, I'll go, it's fine, I'll go. It's not too inconvenient, don't worry. No problem. Okay, bye."

Ross stuck his head out of his bedroom and stared at her.

"Who's that you're talking to?"

"None of your business," she said, shoving her phone back into her pocket, "are you ready yet?"

"Almost. What about you? Please tell me Jim found you something."

"He's looking for it now."

Ross disappeared back inside as Demelza walked around the landing slowly, waiting for Jim to appear. He soon did, with a scrap of black fabric.

"I tried to pick the least obnoxious colour. I thought you'd look nice in red because of your red hair, but…you know, maybe not for the first time. Try this on, I think it'll fit you."

He shoved the scrap in her direction and she took it, opening it up and holding it by the shoulders to give it shape. It was a black mid thigh length chiffon mini dress, exceptionally tiny. It flared out slightly at the bottom like a shrunken prom dress, with ruching up the bodice, and it was off the shoulder, with delicate chiffon panels acting as sleeves.

"It's the only Burberry we have, and it's a Burberry party. I don't think Christopher would take nicely to guests arriving who aren't wearing his label. Ross models for the brand, you can't turn up wearing….like…fucking H&M or something."

"This is….something that could fit a child."

"Well, it cost more than one working parent's monthly salary, so go put it on. There are some black heels here too…" he trailed off as he fished out a pair of ankle strap black sandals, "at first I wanted to go with the super strappy ones that tie all the way up the leg, but I thought a nice, thick ankle strap would really suit. Here you go."

Jim shoved them in her hand and pushed her into the bedroom. She stared at both. She was not good at this.

"Alright, are we ready to go? Verity's almost here!" Ross called to Jim from the bottom of the stairs.

"She's ready!" he called, grinning as he walked down the stairs, "Are we ready for the reveal? She's beauty, she's grace, she's Miss United States!"

Jim made a voila motion as Demelza appeared at the top of the stairs, holding onto the banister for dear life. Ross grinned. She looked good, but she hadn't bothered to do anything with her hair, which was still tied up in that absurd school teacher bun. She hobbled down the stairs with a grimace on her face.

"I've never worn heels this high," she muttered, pulling the dress down.

"Leave it, don't keep pulling it, it only shows more at the top if you do that. You look good. Sexy, in fact."

Demelza stared at Ross in open surprise.

"I look what?"

"Sexy. You've got nice legs, you look good, you know? Experiment with fashion, be a bit adventurous, you never know what you might find that could suit you."

Ross himself looked the very definition of suave, in black jeans, a black shirt, black boots and a black and silver bomber jacket with a transfixing pattern.

"Did you ever think about wearing short, off the shoulder dresses before?" he continued, peering through the peephole, "I bet you thought they were trashy, right? They're not so bad. You might wanna do something with your hair, though."

Before she could answer he heard a car pull up and Ross turned to the door, opening it up. He motioned for Demelza to follow him and opened the door of the black car parked in his driveway.

"Hey, guys!"

Ross got in and Demelza clambered in awkwardly, trying not to spread her legs in the process. She ended up a flustered chiffon heap next to Ross on one of the seats. Everyone else stared at her.

"Let me introduce you to the crew. This is Verity here, my cousin."

Verity shot Demelza a cursory smile and Demelza was momentarily flabbergasted. Verity Poldark was one of the belles of London society, she was the it girl that every girl aspired to be. She was wearing a green lace minidress with a studded black leather jacket over it and a small clutch resting in her lap. She had the window down and was smoking out of it, holding the cigarette delicately between two fingers, fixing her updo carefully. Demelza made a mental note of what she was wearing so she could tell Jinny later.

"This is Francis, also my cousin and Verity's brother. We're tight."

Ross grinned and orchestrated a complex handshake with Francis, who grinned back. He was a reasonable looking man with blonde hair, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit. He resembled Verity slightly.

"He's my man. Verity and Francis, they've been there for me since I was a kid, went to school together and all that. And this is Elizabeth, my girlfriend."

Verity looked over directly opposite where she was sitting and thought she saw the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. Elizabeth smiled at her and extended a hand, which Demelza shook politely. Demelza had only ever heard of Elizabeth Chynoweth, the daughter of the Queen's cousin twice removed or something. Whatever the relation, she had royal connections and she was a model and philanthropist. Demelza had seen her in many a picture in newspapers and social media, attending events and her fashion campaigns, but it was nothing compared to how elegant and graceful she looked close up. She was wearing a fitted pink ribbed dress with full sleeves and a big, curly blowout. Demelza wanted to ask how she got her hair so shiny and healthy, but refrained.

"This is Demelza, everyone. She works for Dwight and apparently, I'm under 'house arrest' or whatever, so Demelza has to accompany me wherever I go. Be nice."

No one said anything, but Verity shot a small smile over at Demelza again.

"I can't believe those bastards let you go so quickly," remarked Verity out of the blue, "I was sure they'd keep you in for a day or two."

"Yah, bad luck, man. I was wondering what to do. I was about to go over there but then Verity said she had it under control so I didn't," said Francis, looking over at Ross in concern.

"No, it's fine, I was in there for like, half an hour. Dwight got me out pretty quickly. Were you all worried or something?" he asked with a laugh.

"I was just as worried as when you got done for possession," said Elizabeth with a pout, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Oh, don't worry, babe, I'm here now, aren't I? And we're gonna have a great night," he said, leaning over to kiss Elizabeth for a second.

Demelza blinked straight ahead. Hang on, had Ross said Elizabeth was his girlfriend? Who was Amanda, then? Demelza got out her phone and texted Jinny quickly.

 _Oh, shit, I think he's cheating on his girlfriend._

 _It's Ross Poldark, what do you expect? Monogamy and two kids? He's not Prince William._

 _Yeah, but who in their right mind would cheat on Elizabeth Chynoweth? I mean, I wouldn't._

 _Elizabeth Chynoweth? OMG, #wcw everyday._

Demelza grinned and tucked her phone back into her purse. Tonight was going to be interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

As the car made its short journey into Mayfair, Demelza looked around at everyone. Ross and Verity were chatting amiably, Elizabeth was playing on her phone and Francis was lighting a cigarette. Demelza started to feel dizzy with all the smoke and she was glad when the car pulled up at some sort of club or restaurant, she couldn't really see in the dark. As soon as they got out, Demelza gasped and clutched at Ross' jacket for support as paparazzi swarmed around them aggressively. They barged past Demelza and began yelling loudly.

"Ross! Ross, could we have one of you, please?"

"Elizabeth, one with Verity and Ross?"

"Francis! Francis, could you stand over here with your sister?"

Demelza clung to the car as the bright flashes assaulted her eyes, her feet unsteady on the pavement. She was seriously worried she'd fall and break her ankle with the height of her heels, but Verity and Elizabeth seemed to be managing it quite well. All four of them were posing together as a group and then in couples. They seemed to have memorised a sort of rota. First they would take a picture all together, then Ross would pair off with Elizabeth and Francis would pair off with Verity. Then Verity took pictures with Ross and Elizabeth and Francis posed separately. They went inside while Ross and Verity posed a bit longer. Demelza gripped the car in worry, wondering when was the right time to go inside. She didn't want to get in anyone's way and it wasn't as if the photographers were calling her name.

She tried to catch Ross' eye, but he was too busy giving the cameras his Blue Steel. When he'd finished, he turned to disappear inside. Demelza followed him, running in awkwardly until she was faced with a red carpet. Ross seemed to completely ignore her, so she stood at the side where all the organisers seemed to stand, watching as Ross and Elizabeth posed on the red carpet. She felt the envy rearing again, how Elizabeth and Verity just seemed to know what their best sides were and how they'd look good on camera. Elizabeth was a model after all. She turned to the side and posed with one hand on Ross' chest, with his arm wrapped around her waist, then moved to stand side by side with him, all the while with Ross' arm wrapped around her.

When it got round to taking solo pictures, Demelza was slightly surprised at how he worked every angle. He went through a whole range of effortless poses, running his hand through his hair and staring intently into each camera lense.

"Ross, what do you think of the new Burberry menswear collection?"

Ross stepped forward as Elizabeth disappeared to pose by herself further down the red carpet.

"I think it's fantastic, so ingenious on Christopher's behalf. Wearable colours, unique cuts and interesting silhouettes."

"And what was your experience like with the brand?"

"I've had the privilege of working with Christopher many times and it's an absolute honour, he's a genius of a man and he's really steering the brand in a new and exciting direction. Burberry's long been a staple of British fashion and Chris is just the man for it."

"Is there anything you'd like to say about your recent arrest?"

"You can believe what you like."

He smiled easily and continued along the line of reporters, answering all their questions patiently before waving them off. The photographers didn't stop yelling until the foursome had made their way inside, with Demelza trundling behind awkwardly.

The party continued as she expected a fashion party to be. The head of Burberry, Christopher Bailey, who had posed with Ross on the red carpet, came over to Ross to ask him what he thought of the new collection. Loads of other people Demelza had only seen in the Metro were dotted around the room, and Ross, Verity, Francis and Elizabeth made their way around comfortably, chatting to everyone. Ross was Demelza's priority, of course, so she followed him around like an awkward shadow, standing behind him everywhere he went. He never said anything, but she felt embarrassed and everyone started to look at her oddly. She didn't want to get thrown out and have to create a scene by explaining she was Ross' lawyer, so she quietly tottered to the back of the room where she could keep an eye on Ross wherever he went.

He shot her a grateful look and she smiled back, watching him interact with people. There were stylists, fashion editors, designers, models and socialites, all of whom seemed to know Ross and gathered around him. He was never free for one moment, with a wine glass in one hand and Elizabeth in the other.

While she was watching, she felt her phone vibrate in her bag and took it out.

"Hi, Demelza. How's it going?"

"It's fine, Mr Enys. Mr Poldark's at the party with his cousins Verity and Francis and his girlfriend Elizabeth."

"And how is he with them?"

"Happy. The happiest I've seen him all day, I think. He's having a good time."

"Okay, make sure to keep him in your line of sight at all times. Thank God we managed to ask the police to deactivate his ankle tag while he was out. Don't forget to keep sending texts to Detective Sanson every half hour to confirm that you're with Ross. Otherwise he'll literally try to re-legislate the death penalty just to give it to Ross."

"I will, Mr Enys," she laughed, fixing her eyes on Ross as he moved about the room.

"Good. I had Jinny go to your house to pick up a few things for you, you know, toothbrush, clothes, that kind of thing. Did you ma—"

"What? Toothbrush? Am I staying the night?"

"Demelza, if Ross wanted to go somewhere, he'd do it at night when there's no one around. So yes, you're staying the night. Every night, in fact, until we go to trial. Work from Ross' place, if you find anything important, we can meet face to face in the office. About that, have you managed to ask Ross anything about the case yet?"

"No, Mr Enys," she said with irritation, "he's too busy sleeping, eating and going to parties."

"As soon as possible, please, Demelza. Warleggan wants to go to trial this week and I have nothing I can put on the table against that, I can't delay the first hearing date. Try your best."

"I wil, Mr Enys. Bye."

Demelza sighed and ended the call, shoving her phone back into her bag. She felt someone's eyes on her and looked up to see Ross staring at her from across the room with an odd look on his face. She picked up a wine glass from a nearby table and smiled, raising it to him in a mock toast. He flashed her a small smile and continued on with his evening while Demelza sat down on a chair. She was tired, she had to admit. She'd been working till lunch and then this whole fiasco with being seconded to the Poldark Mansion had happened and now she was wearing a dress several sizes too small for her, sipping wine on a Monday evening, which is not something she did on a regular weekday. Also, her feet felt like they were about to fall off, but that was another story.

The night ended several hours later, after they had decanted to an exclusive Hawaii themed club for some sort of afterparty. Demelza had played the same role, sitting down at the side and refusing to drink any more than the one glass of wine she'd had at the party earlier. But this was still a party too, right? Was it the same party, or did this constitute a new party? She didn't really know, it was all a blur by now. Everyone was enjoying themselves and Ross had spent the majority of the evening getting drunk on absurdly large bottles of Moet and repeatedly ordering more to their table or snapping pictures with his friends. Elizabeth had sat on his lap for most of it and Demelza could tell she was a giggly drunk. Ross had been dancing too, but the music was too loud for Demelza to do much other than make sure Ross was still in her line of sight, with Elizabeth stuck to him doing obscene grinding motions. Verity, however, walked up to Demelza and looked at her.

Demelza's stomach began to turn upside down and she felt like she might puke out this afternoon's stir fry. Was she expected to make conversation?

"Drink, darling?" asked Verity, holding up a bottle of Moet as she poured herself a glass.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," said Demelza quietly. Verity looked over at her.

"You don't drink?"

"No, I do…I had a glass at the other place, that was enough for me."

"Ah, always on the job," said Verity knowingly, sipping from her glass, "you okay so far?"

Demelza nodded cautiously and watched as Ross got up, pulling Elizabeth close to him as he grabbed his jacket.

"Well, your ordeal's over," laughed Verity, "we're leaving now."

Demelza got up and followed the group out as they all covered their faces from the glare of the cameras waiting outside. They clambered into the same car they'd arrived in and Ross, Francis and Elizabeth collapsed in giggles. It caught onto Verity, and soon everyone in the car bar Demelza was laughing. She looked around at them oddly. Had she missed a joke?

"Oh, come on, Demelza, lighten up!" laughed Ross, jabbing her in the ribs with his elbow.

She stared at them oddly. Perhaps they were just too drunk. The car went on a round trip of Central London, first dropping Verity off, then Francis, then Elizabeth. Demelza had to sit in the car and tolerate Ross' long goodbye at Elizabeth's front door, which included gratuitous touching and many minutes of Elizabeth making pouty faces and looking delighted as Ross took her hands and kissed her goodbye. She waved him off from the front door and Ross slid back into the car, smiling and waving as the car backed out of the street.

"Who's Amanda?" asked Demelza cheekily as Ross turned back to stare at her.

"Who is Amanda?" he asked back with genuine curiosity.

"The girl you said you slept with, who left her underwear at your house.

"Oh. She's just some girl, why?"

"Well, aren't you cheating on your girlfriend? Elizabeth seems to love you very much."

"Everyone loves me, Demelza."

"Even so," she suggested, crossing her legs and trying to cover most of her thighs with her dress, "surely you shouldn't be cheating on her? It's hardly a healthy relationship, she's obsessed with you."

"Those might be your rules, they don't apply to me. I do what I like. Elizabeth and I are fine."

He brushed away the conversation and rolled the window down, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. His hands started to shake as he took his lighter out and three tries later, he was nowhere close to lighting it. She frowned and took it from his hand.

"Let me."

She leaned forward and so did Ross, holding the cigarette between his lips as Demelza flicked and held the flame to the tip. Ross flicked his eyes up from the tip of the cigarette to Demelza's face, holding one hand around the flame to protect it. Her eyes were strangely mesmerising, large and bright blue, with long, delicate lashes. She was entirely focussed on lighting the cigarette correctly, so once lit, she held up her own hand to keep the flame going. She was confused when Ross didn't move back and looked up to see him looking at her. She stared, her eyes wide for a second before her face flushed a very similar red to earlier in the day.

Ross smirked and sat back in his seat, beginning to exhale smoke out of the window. The drive home was short and once again, someone opened the door for them and then went inside silently. Ross went straight into the kitchen without ceremony and milliseconds later, Demelza could hear a crisp packet opening.

"Do we have any guacamole, Jim? I want guacamole with these."

Jim came thundering down the stairs, Beats headphone still on.

"What did you say?"

"I said, do we have any guacamole?"

"What did you say?!"

Ross sighed and pushed the headphones off his head.

"I said, do we have any guacamole, Mr DJ?"

Demelza laughed as she observed the interaction before she felt her phone vibrating again. The ID read 'Dwight Enys' so Demelza sighed and picked it up again.

"Mr Enys, what are you even doing awake at this time? No, I haven't had time to ask him about the case, we've been out all evening and we've just gotten home."

"No it's not about that, Demelza. I know you're home, his ankle tag says so. I need you to do something for me. Jinny brought all your things in two red bags, can you go upstairs and find them for me?"

"What? Why?"

There was no answer on the other end, so Demelza excused herself and went upstairs. Ross' eyes followed her, but the promise of guacamole was too much for him to resist. As soon as Demelza hit the landing, she asked for clarification again.

"Why do you need me to find my own bags?"

"Do you have them? Jinny said Jim had them put in your room."

Demelza went into the bedroom assigned to her by Jim and looked down to see two large red gym bags by the bed. She didn't have any time to wonder at how beautiful the room was, but instead opened both bags curiously. They contained her clothes, shoes and personal items, nothing interesting.

"What do you want me to do? I have them, I've opened them. My stuff's inside, it's nothing special."

"In one of the bags, Jinny's put a sort of walkie talkie system. It should be in a box, ready to use."

Demelza was silent for a second.

"A walkie talkie system? We already have phones, Sir, we don't need walkie talkies."

"It's not for us, it's for you and Ross. I need you to take it out of the box and assemble it, then keep one part in your room and one part in his room overnight, just so you know whether he's there or not. The one Jinny got is a bit like a baby monitor, it's got a webcam type fitting so you can see in to make sure he's there."

Demelza froze with her hand in the gym bag. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Are you asking me to spy on him? I'm sorry, Mr Enys, but I can't do that, it's illegal. You should know that."

"Doing it to witnesses, other suspects or members of the prosecution is illegal. It's not when you do it to your own client."

"But he's your own client! Mr Enys, it's not permitted!" she blustered angrily, trying to keep her voice down as she paced around the room, suddenly able to walk perfectly fine in her heels.

"Everything's permitted if you're a lawyer. We're doing it in his best interests, Demelza. What, do you think I have some sort of voyeurism fetish? I wouldn't ask you to do it if it wasn't important. Sanson's on our case, he says if Ross leaves that house without anyone knowing again, he'll drag him to court on the charge of violating the terms of his arrest. And this time, he'll make it stick. Sanson and Warleggan want Ross behind bars, Demelza, and if they can't get him on murder or manslaughter, they'll get him on something petty. I'm trying to protect him here," came his tinny voice through the phone.

He was impassioned as ever, but Demelza scrunched up her face, rubbing her forehead.

"I don't feel good about this, Mr Enys."

"You don't have to, it's not really a moral act, is it? And you need to do it without him knowing or he'll get angry, remember to put it somewhere discrete with a good view of the room and cover it up with something he'll never pick up, okay? I love him, Demelza, he's a good friend of mine and I don't want him to go to jail for something I believe he hasn't done. Evidence might point towards him but I know Ross, I know he could never do something like this to the last parent he had left. Just trust me on this, alright?"

Demelza didn't answer, but Dwight put the phone down after a few seconds. She sighed and sat down by the gym bags, evaluating the situation in her head. She didn't want to do it, she didn't like the idea of spying on someone without their knowledge but it was for Ross' own good. He would be prone to leave the house and think of it as a joke or harmless. She knew if she explained it to him and asked his permission, he'd flat out refuse. She bit her lip and dug the box out quickly, deciding on doing it before she changed her mind. Having assembled the two monitors, she checked to see if they worked. She pressed the video button on the receiver and saw the little screen come to life. She stared back at herself in the screen and once she was satisfied that it was working, she hid the receiver under her pillow and held the monitor behind her back, opening her door to peek out.

She could hear Ross and Jim laughing downstairs and the TV blaring, so she thought he wouldn't come up for some time. She crept across the carpeted landing, cursing herself for not taking her heels off and grateful that no one could hear her footsteps. She opened the door to Ross' bedroom and was shocked at what she saw.

It was the most beautiful and odd bedroom Demelza had ever seen in her life. A large, spacious, circular room centered with a four poster bed featuring intricate carvings, light silk swags hanging from the sides tied with tassels like something out of a period drama. A large black crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, something Demelza had never seen before. The dark purple silk bedclothes were ruffled and a few shirts and trousers were tossed around the room, some on the floor, some on couches and some on the bed. There was a large Afghan rug that took up most of the rest of the room, with multiple Greek-style chaise longues resting on it and on the far side of the room, a door that opened up into another room. She guessed it was his walk in wardrobe, but she didn't venture that far. She turned to the bed and saw the bedside tables resting either side, a few beer cans and whisky bottles resting on them, unfinished mugs of tea and books falling everywhere. A couch faced the bed, just below a large wall mounted TV and she thought about shoving the monitor in there and covering it with a pillow, but worried it would become wedged in if someone sat down.

Her eyes turned to a large, archaic bookcase near the bed. It looked like it'd been dragged out of Hogwarts and books were jammed into it every which way, in no particular order. She walked over quietly and placed the monitor behind a pile of books, peeking out through a slit between two books to get a good view of the room. When she was satisfied that it was adequately concealed, she crept towards the door, peeked out and walked back into her room, mission accomplished. She exhaled shakily and sat down on the bed. She felt sick, she didn't know if it was the tight dress or her stomach coming up to her mouth. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands.

A knocking rattled her door and she almost screamed, jumping up and pushing her hair back before regulating her breathing and opening the door. Jim stood there with a plate of food.

"It's been quite a while since lunch," he said with a wide smile, "I made pie, chips and couscous. Help yourself. I know it's a bit of a mixture, but I usually cook whatever I fancy, not what goes together well."

Demelza smiled nervously and took the tray from Jim.

"Thanks, Jim. I am a little hungry, I guess."

"No problem. Just leave it outside when you're done and I'll collect it. Ross is about to come up to bed now too."

"It's fine, I'll wash it up myself."

"If you insist," laughed Jim, waving and walking down the stairs.

Demelza closed the door and set the tray on her bed, finally kicking off her heels to sit cross legged on the bed. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth several times to try and centre herself. It wasn't a big deal. She was just doing her job. After all, that was what she was paid to do, right?

She picked up her fork and knife and tucked into the steaming pie, looking up as she heard Ross' distinctively lazy footsteps pound the stairs. She looked down at her plate and carried on eating.

Two hours later, and Ross still wasn't in his bedroom. Demelza frowned as she looked at the receiver. The room was undisturbed as it had been when she'd placed the monitor there. She'd heard knocking around from downstairs but didn't care to check. Jim had come to say goodnight to her but Ross still seemed to be down there. Demelza took a chance and shoved her feet in ballet slippers, creeping out of her room cautiously. She slowly made her day down the stairs to see light emanating from the kitchen. When she stepped in, she saw Ross standing at the counter, busy humming to himself.

He looked so different, he'd changed out of his Burberry gear and was wearing a pair of navy tracksuit bottoms with stripes down the sides and a heather grey ribbed Henley shirt, which seemed incredibly tight, she could see his back muscles moving as he worked. She raised her eyebrows and coughed.

"Hm? Oh! Hi, Demelza. What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," she said curiously, making her way over to him.

He looked her up and down with interest. She was a slight girl, even smaller than when he'd first saw her, dressed in a little purple cami and shorts. She was looking at him oddly, with a mixture of hesitation and curiosity. Her hair was still in that godawful bun.

"I like the silk," he gestured to her nightclothes, "and I couldn't sleep, so I decided I'd come downstairs and cook something."

That was when Demelza's eyes gravitated towards the countertop in front of Ross. There was some sort of dough resting in one bowl, and he was busy chopping onions. Once he was done, he tossed them into a large green plastic bowl, mixing around the substances inside.

"What are you making?"

"Samosas. Have you ever had them? And no, not the little pieces of crap they make in restaurants, I'm talking about heavy duty, proper Indian samosas. Not the flaky ones."

"No, I haven't. But how do you know how to make them?"

"I spent some time in India during my gap year."

Demelza rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter. Ross set the green bowl aside and began flouring the surface in front of him.

"I see that look. It wasn't a normal gap yah. I've revisited India a lot since then, really fallen in love with the place. I can speak Hindi, without the colonialist accent, if you're wondering. The people, the religions, the languages, the culture and most of all, the food. I love Indian food, specifically Punjabi food. They know what's up, big servings, spicy food, hearty and filling."

Ross continued his narrative and took the dough out, rolling it into a long tail shape, then taking his knife to cut it into equal portions.

"What's that dough made out of?" she asked, feeling the urge to poke the spongy mass with her finger.

Ross turned to smile at her, patting the counter next to him for her to sit. She hopped up so her legs were dangling in the same fashion Ross' had been earlier in the day. He talked as he shaped the pieces into spheres, setting them all aside. His floury hands reached for a flat griddle, setting it on the hob and lighting it.

"Plain flour, salt and water. It's quite a tough consistency, and then you grab your rolling pin and roll it into a circle, like you're making a chapatti or something. You gotta put it on a really hot surface and semi-cook it. And this is the filling," he said, picking up the green bowl to show her, "I've got some sweetcorn, peas, chopped onions, boiled potatoes, fresh coriander and tonnes of spices. Have a taste, it's all cooked."

He stuck a spoon in it and handed Demelza the bowl. She set it on her lap and tasted it curiously.

"What is that, cumin?"

"Yeah," he said, rolling out tonnes of little circles and flipping them on the stove quickly, "ground cumin, salt, ground coriander, red chilli powder. No black pepper shit going on here."

He set all the grilled circles on a chopping board in a big tower, chopping them all in half in one big swipe of his shiny knife.

"Let me show you how this works. It's so cool, it's like a crafts project," he said excitedly, taking the filling bowl from her and setting it down on the counter alongside the chopping board. His hair fell over his face as he sorted everything and took out a bowl, spooning plain flour into it.

"What are you doing? More dough?"

"No, this is the glue that's gonna stick everything together. You get some plain flour and a little water from the tap like so, and mix it all together and it makes this beige glue type mixture. Do me a favour, get out a big, deep wok from that cupboard there and fill it up with the big plastic bottle of olive oil. We're gonna deep fry this bitch."

Demelza did as he asked, hopping off the counter to take the wok out, pouring the golden oil into it as Ross waited for her. She jumped back up quickly.

"So? What next?"

"Ideally, heat the oil," he grinned, turning to the stove.

"Oh, sorry! I just wanted to see what you were doing!"

"It's fine. So what we're gonna do is pick up one of these semi circles and lay it flat so the straight side is facing up. We're gonna dip our finger in the glue and dab it in the middle of the straight bit, right at the top. Then fold the left side over to meet the curved side and smear a line of glue down the exposed edge, then bring the right side over to rest on top of the glue."

He pressed the two edges together and grinned, holding up his creation. Demelza stared in astonishment.

"And we've got a little cone. So we get the filling and take a big, generous spoonful and put it into the cone, almost to the top, but we don't want to overfill it or it won't shut properly. Then we dip our finger in the glue again and spread it around one side of the lip of the cone's opening, like so. Last step, hold the cone like this in both hands," he instructed cupping it between the heels of his hands, "and press all the air up and out, so there are no air bubbles in it. The glued lip will meet the bare lip and you have to press it shut with your fingers over and over to make sure it's properly shut. Otherwise when we fry it, the oil will get in and it'll basically explode. Won't be pretty."

Demelza watched his every move with interest. She'd never seen anything like this before and Ross was meticulous. She wondered the story behind how he learned to make these and thought he was probably a man with many interesting stories. The backstory she'd read in her legal papers was nothing like the man in front of her. She dared to admit she was quite enjoying his presence.

"Easy, see? Let's make seven or eight of these, then we'll fry them. Do you wanna try the next one? I'll make the cone, you can fill it up and we can try and close it together."

Ross started constructing the cone and Demelza wondered at his openness. He didn't even know her.

"Here you go. Pop a big spoonful in there. What's wrong? Not hungry? You will be after you see the finished product."

"Do you always eat so much?" she asked with a smile, filling up the cone.

"Yeah. I have a pretty big appetite. Come on, you have to put the glue on now."

Demelza tried her hand at it, and Ross held it while Demelza pressed it closed with her fingers. It looked a bit knobbly and clumsy.

"Brilliant! Not bad for a first attempt! You've done enough for today, rest your weary hands and I'll do the rest. The oil's hot, so we should make them quickly."

He got to work and speedily filled up six more cones, plopping them in the oil where they bubbled mightily. He turned the heat down a little and began to clear up, setting everything away in its place and decanting leftover mixture into a clean box to put into the fridge for later.

"I didn't know you cooked," mused Demelza with a smile, swinging her legs and watching him.

"I don't, really. Jim cooks for both of us, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to cook," he said, washing his hands free of all the flour, "besides, I try to follow a relatively healthy diet and exercise plan, so it's important for me to know what I'm putting into my body."

Demelza stared at him in shock. Was he serious?

"You smoke pot and snort cocaine, drink and smoke cigarettes. Isn't that bad for your body?"

"It is. So I try to make up for it by eating well and working out. I've got a gym downstairs, treadmill, rowing machine, weights, bikes, all that kind of stuff. No matter how busy I am, I always make time for some cardio or lifting."

"But then you go and snort coke?"

"Why not? Makes you feel good, right? Just like food does. You're not gonna ask me to stop eating, are you?"

He turned the samosas over carefully in the oil, watching them brown keenly, then leaned back against the counter, looking her over with interest.

"Tell me about yourself."

She blinked at him. Everything he said was unexpected and she didn't quite know how to react. He was different now, he had been since she'd come downstairs. There were less people around, perhaps less of a cause to overact and be dramatic. He smiled in that odd way of his, one side of his mouth turning up. His eyes twinkled and he was looking straight at her. She wasn't used to that.

"Well….I'm a lawyer. I went to law school here in London and graduated a few years ago. I got a training contract straight out of university and joined Mr Enys' firm, then I became a fully qualified legal advisor and was able to practice by myself. I work for Mr Enys and get assigned to certain cases. I'm working my way up to be a partner in the firm, hopefully."

Ross' face dropped and he turned to inspect his samosas again. Demelza felt clammy, she didn't know what she'd said wrong.

"What?"

"Hi, I'm Demelza. I work. Work, work, work. That's all I do, I work," he imitated, "what about you as a person? What are you like?"

Demelza paused and considered his question.

"I work a lot, you're right. I watch a lot of TV, I go out with my friends for dinner a lot….but….you know, I spend most of my time at home."

Ross listened as he drained each samosa, placing them on a plate to cool.

"Parents? Or do you live alone?"

"My mum died when I was a kid. I live alone."

Her tone had changed enough for Ross to look up from the plate, his eyebrow raising.

"I guess we've both got Daddy issues. What did yours do? Lock you up and beat you or something?"

Demelza was silent. She stared at the ground. The entire room felt cold now and Ross froze, his eyes boring into her, willing her to look up at him. Had he said something?

"Demelza?"

She looked at the plate instead, motioning over to it. Her breath was shaking and she couldn't really speak, so she decided gestures would be enough.

Ross put the plate down and picked up a samosa, tearing it in half to reveal the steaming filling inside. He handed one half to Demelza with a napkin and they began eating in silence. Ross stared at the floor as he ate, wondering at what he'd said. Surely her father didn't actually beat her? She was such a strong woman, she had the courage to come into his house and talk back to him, he couldn't imagine anyone raising their voice to her, let alone their hand.

"This is delicious," came Demelza's voice after a while once she'd collected herself.

Ross smiled at her and kept eating until he'd finished. Demelza finished hers too and set her napkin down, hopping off the counter. She suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"I should get some sleep. Is it okay if we go over the case tomorrow, Mr Poldark?"

"Whatever you want," he said, leaning back to view her as she walked towards the open end of the kitchen, "I said before, my name's Ross, not Mister Poldark. I'm not a professor."

"I think Mr Poldark is best," she said with a small smile, "thank you for the food, it was delicious. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight."

With that, she walked out and Ross heard her patter up the stairs. He turned around and stared at the plate of hot samosas. That girl was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. He took out some tomato ketchup and squirted it on a plate, sitting up on the counter to finish the rest of the plate himself.


	4. Chapter 4

It was midday before there was any sign of Ross. Demelza had spent her entire morning waiting for him to wake up, despite Jim's prediction that he wouldn't come downstairs until the afternoon.

His lazy footsteps were a dead giveaway and he appeared blearily rubbing his eyes, in the same tracksuit and Henley shirt she's seen him wearing the night before. He yawned and pushed his mess of curls out of his face, turning to look at her sitting at the kitchen table she'd made a makeshift desk.

"What are you doing all ready so early?"

"Early? It's half past twelve, Mr Poldark.

"Yeah. You're lucky it's not past lunch."

His slippers made shuffling noises on the tiled floor as he walked over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk, tossing himself down on a chair next to her as Jim placed a plate of breakfast in front of him. Demelza stared at it. Scrambled egg, toast, beans, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms. Ross began to eat systematically.

"So, Mr Poldark—"

"I'm eating."

His voice was final and Demelza stopped mid sentence, setting her pen down.

"D'you want some?" came his voice after a few minutes, holding up a soggy mushroom with a fork.

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

He got up and placed his clean plate by the sink, sitting down opposite her. Jim placed a mug of tea and a box of cookies in front of him before leaving.

"Now you can ask me whatever you want."

Demelza picked up her pen and set two sheets of paper in front of her, looking up at him.

"You must make sure that your answers in response to my questions are the truth, Mr Poldark. I can use whatever you say as evidence during your trial and I need to be sure that you're telling me the truth. Please don't omit anything. Do you understand?"

He winked as he sipped his tea, shoving a cookie in his mouth. She sighed.

"Could you tell me what you were doing on January 2nd 2016? Be as detailed as you can from the morning to when you went to sleep."

"I…woke up around lunch time. New Year's parties the day before that, you know, so I wasn't feeling great. I had lunch…..watched some TV. Fed the cat—"

"You have a cat?"

Ross stopped and stared at her. She looked down at her papers quickly.

"Yeah, I have a cat. Her name's Sabre, she's a grey nebelung, pure breed. You'll see her around, she's usually very quiet. Anyway. I fed her….watched more TV…..read some books….Verity called me and we chatted for a while. I went out for a meeting at the Stella McCartney offices, I'm working on a collaboration with them. When I got home, Verity told me to call Elizabeth…she came over to pick up some stuff."

"And when was this?"

"I dunno…..like….6 or 7? We talked for a while and then she left, probably around 8. Dad texted me to let me know he'd reached Nampara. I made myself some dinner, that took a while, I probably ate around 10, watched a movie…..you know, did normal stuff. Then I got a call from Prudie, the housekeeper in Cornwall and she told me she'd found Dad dead in the living room in Nampara and she'd called the police. Then…you know the rest."

"Where was Jim? And where were you when you received this call?" she murmured, writing speedily.

"In bed, playing with Sabre. Jim was away visiting his family. I asked Prudie if I should come over and she said that the police were taking his body for a post mortem because they suspected foul play. She told me what she'd seen."

"And what was that?"

Ross sighed and ran his hands through his hair until he could brace the back of his neck, looking down and sighing before looking up again.

"Look, you can't trust much of what Prudie says, she's a bit funny in the head—"

"What did she say, Mr Poldark?"

"She told me that it looked like either someone had injected Dad with a syringe or Dad had done it himself. He'd only arrived in Nampara a few hours prior to this and Prudie said he was acting totally normal, just how he always is. He said he'd work late in the living room in front of the fire, so she made him dinner, which he ate, and then when she went to bring him tea a few hours later, he looked limp, but his eyes were open and she started freaking out."

"And you were at home all this time?"

"Yes."

Demelza scrunched her eyes shut and underlined her notes several times.

"Prudie did say she heard someone else moving around but she thought it was just Dad. She heard the front door open and she heard Dad speak to someone."

Demelza cranked her head up and narrowed her eyes. This was new information.

"So Prudie can confirm that there was someone else in the house?"

"That's what she told me," sighed Ross, sipping his tea, "she said there was someone talking to Dad and she thought it was me, so she didn't come in to see."

"Do you have any idea who it could have been?"

Ross shrugged and by this time, his tea had finished. He looked down into the mug.

"I don't know, Demelza. A lot of people hated Dad but I don't think they hated him enough to want to kill him."

"Did you ever know your Dad to use drugs of any kind?"

Ross laughed emptily and shuffled his feet on the floor.

"He might have smoked pot a bit at university, but that's about it. He always used to get pissed when he saw coke around my house, so I'd have to get Jim to hide it whenever he came around. Dad smoked, but that was about it."

"And at what point did you give your father your jacket?"

"He came round the night before to discuss some business plans with me, he wanted to revamp Nampara and he was going to meet some big guys in Cornwall to discuss it, and….you know, I was just playing, I said he didn't look smart enough so he should borrow one of my Gucci tailored suit jackets. I gave it to him that night and he sent me a picture of him wearing it in the car when he was driving to Cornwall."

Ross fished in the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms and pulled out his iPhone, swiping to show her a picture of Joshua Poldark. It was a smiling selfie, he was in the back seat of a chauffeured car, a smart jacket on and two fingers held up to pose for the camera. She smiled too. Ross resembled his father.

"Yeah, he looks a bit silly," remarked Ross with a sad smile, closing the phone down, "he never really knew how to take selfies properly."

"Thank you for showing me," she said quietly, setting her pen down, "there are some last questions I need to ask you, I'm afraid. Have you ever given any drug paraphernalia to anyone else for use?"

Ross shook his head and looked away, out of the patio door and into the back garden.

"I know it's dangerous. I don't want to contract no blood disease."

"And you've never given any drugs to your father?"

He shook his head again and Demelza bit her lip, looking down at her papers.

"That'll be enough for today, Mr Poldark. Can you look over this statement and see if you think it's all correct, and then sign it here on the bottom, please?"

Ross looked back down at the sheets Demelza had pushed across the table and frowned, pulling a pair of thick rimmed black glasses out of his pocket. He put them on and took her pen, looking through everything carefully before signing with a little flourish.

"You wear glasses?"

He looked up at her and blinked.

"Yeah. I'm not blind, though, they're just for reading. I'm short sighted. Or long sighted. I don't know, whatever. Is it all done? Can I go?"

Demelza nodded and began sorting her papers until she heard a clack in front of her. Ross placed a plate of samosas down.

"Help yourself!" he called, walking up the stairs to presumably nap again.

Demelza smiled and picked one up, taking a bite as she resumed her work.

As the evening came around, Ross had dismissed Jim and was intent on making dinner himself. He'd just masterfully wrapped the pastry when he spotted a plate of three uneaten samosas on the table. He smiled and walked over, picking it up his floury hand. He leaned back against the counter and began to eat as the oven heated.

Last night had been a change for him. When he came down to cook so late, he was usually alone and though cooking made him feel good, he never shared it with anybody. It was a new experience for him. He wasn't willing to admit that he quite liked having Demelza around. She was boring but also interesting at the same time. She talked back to him but every now and then, she'd get really anxious and nervous around him. When he'd first saw her, she was exactly what he'd expected a lawyer to be but the longer she'd stayed around, he'd noticed something different about her.

"Mr Poldark? Is it possible that I could have Miss Poldark and Miss Chynoweth's numbers? I'd like to speak to them to corroborate what you said in your statement about the phonecalls and home visit. Is that…"

Demelza trailed off as she saw Ross's mouth full of samosa and his hands, arms and shirt covered in flour.

He mumbled something through his mouthful and picked up his phone, sending Elizabeth and Verity's numbers to Demelza.

"Done! And don't worry, this isn't the same shirt as yesterday."

"What are you making?" she asked, completely ignoring his actions. She walked curiously over to the oven and stared at the counter.

"Beef wellington, bitches!" he announced proudly, showing her with a flourish, "We're gonna have some steak cut chips and veggies to go with it. I'm thinking carrots, peas, sweetcorn, loads of stuff."

"You made that beef wellington all by yourself?"

"Pastry, beef, mushroom duxelles, everything."

He grinned proudly and picked up the baking tray, leaning down to place it in the oven as Demelza stepped back in wonder.

"You know, that's seriously impressive. I didn't know you could cook like that."

"I think there are loads of things about me that you don't know."

"Like why you've stopped being such a massive asshole, suddenly."

Demelza looked at him pointedly and he raised his eyebrows at her. He was shocked and slightly curious.

"I was an asshole before?" he asked in mock surprise.

She grinned and hopped up on the counter next to him, her unseasonal summer dress fluttering.

"You were. And you probably still are. Also, you didn't egg wash it."

Ross was confused before Demelza hopped down and used the oven gloves to remove the baking tray. She grabbed an egg from the fridge and cracked it into a bowl, whisking it and using a brush on the utensil rack to spread the egg over the pastry.

"Good one," he said, leaning against the counter to watch her, "I am an asshole. But you're here to help me, so I don't think I should be an asshole to you. Or to Dwight. I know he's gone to some lengths for me, I don't want to put all his hard work to waste."

Demelza gasped and placed a hand on her chest.

"So the great Mr Poldark does actually realise that other people work hard too?"

Ross burst out laughing as Demelza grinned and hopped back up on the counter. She liked the way every curl seemed to shake as he laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh that came from somewhere inside his chest. She couldn't help smiling when she saw him smile, it was slightly contagious.

"Yeah, yeah, I do realise people work hard for me," smiled Ross, leaning back against the island, "I do realise that. I realise that Jim cleans up after me, cooks for me. My friends make time to see me whenever I ask them to. People turn up at events I attend and ask for pictures with me and my autograph. When I go to a shoot and say I'm too high or hungover, dozens of people work to change the date and time just so it doesn't inconvenience me. I understand that."

Demelza had stopped smiling by now and was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. She wasn't expecting this and she didn't know quite what to say. From the moment she'd seen him, he'd been a man who had an answer for everything and didn't seem to give a shit about anything apart from himself.

"Then why do you behave the way you do? Why do you…do your own thing?"

Her voice was quiet and her question wasn't curious, it was genuine. Ross hopped up to sit on the island opposite her.

"Why should I be like everyone else? Normal isn't fun. Why shouldn't I do my own thing? I've always advocated individuality. I don't like people who tell me what to do and I don't like being made to do things. I don't like people who think they're better than me or have one up on me. I wasn't brought up like that."

"How were you brought up? What was your childhood like?"

"Damn, you're on a roll tonight. What's this, twenty questions?" laughed Ross, "My childhood was just how you'd imagine it. We used to live in Cornwall, in Nampara, but we went on holidays all over the world, I had everything a little boy could ever want. My mother died when I was a teenager and then it was just me and Dad, and we stuck together. If we hadn't, we would have grown apart and never been able to reconnect. Dad always made sure he was there for me, whether it was boarding school, university, whatever. And now I'm here."

He hopped off the counter and leaned down to check on the oven.

"Looks good. We should start frying the chips."

He took a bowl of freshly cut home made chips and set it near the stove. By the time he'd finished, Demelza had already set the oil filled wok on the stove.

"And I turned it on this time," she grinned proudly, pointing at the button.

"Congratulations!"

Ross and Demelza both laughed as Ross started to clean up the worktop.

"Look at you, you've sidetracked me. Usually I clean up as soon as I finish cooking, now look at the co—"

Ross stopped dead as a pinch of flour hit him in the face. He turned his head to see Demelza grinning as wide as she could, sitting on the counter, her fingers covered in white powder.

"Did you just flick flour at me?"

"Did I? What's the evidence?"

Her grin didn't disappear as Ross stepped back, putting on a serious face and crossing his arms over his broad chest. His biceps flexed as he did so and Demelza couldn't help noticing. His mock serious tone made her laugh. His nose twitched with a sprinkle of flour on it.

"Well, Miss Carne, the first piece of evidence I'd like to present to the court are your hands covered in flour. The second is that impish little grin."

Before she knew it, he reached forward to grab a handful of flour from the plate and threw it at her. She squealed and tried to defend herself with her arms, but still got most of it on her dress.

"Hey, that's not fair! You did more than me!"

Ross shrugged and stepped back again, picking up the plate. He grinned and braced himself.

"Life isn't fair, honey. And you know me, I don't play by the rules."

"Fine then!" Demelza grabbed the jar of flour and jumped off the counter, taking a handful and tossing it over him.

He coughed and looked away, getting most of it in his hair before retaliating, throwing white powder over her until it peppered her hair too, dusting all over her dress and skin. They laughed like little kids and chased each other around the island, with Demelza pausing only to abandon the plate of flour and pick up the bag instead.

"Come on!" yelled Ross from the other side of the kitchen, "Come get me!"

Demelza narrowed her eyes and ran for Ross with a large handful of flour, spilling everywhere. As she got right up close to him, he reached up to tip the entire jar over her head. She screamed and when it was over and she resembled something close to a powdery snowman, she lifted her own bag and tipped it over his head too. Ross stood stock still as the powder set into his curly hair and made little mountains on his broad shoulders.

They both laughed as they opened their eyes to look at each other. Demelza looked beautiful, even in this state. Her red floral dress was covered with explosions of powder and her red hair was speckled with it. She shook her head and it tumbled to the floor like snow. She set the bag down as they caught their breath and their laughs turned into uncomfortable wheezes.

"You're awful, you know that?" he said, grinning as Demelza grabbed a towel from the island behind her.

"I know."

She moved towards him and began dusting the flour off him with a toothy grin, reaching up on her tiptoes to reach his shoulders. He leaned down so she could fluff his hair. She set the towel down and ran her fingers through it gently to try and free the flour. It floated down to the ground at her feet and she realised how soft his hair were as her fingers tangled into his curls.

"How do you get your hair so healthy and shiny?" she asked with a giggle, ruffling it to get the last of the flour out.

"I condition it with a 24 carat gold formula," he replied, taking the towel to dust her shoulders off. She stared at him.

"Wait, really? You have a 24 carat gold conditioner?"

"No!" he laughed merrily, brushing her hair with the towel, "I just wash it like normal. What's up with your hair, why do you always keep it like this?" he gestured to the slick bun.

"Lawyer," she said with a grin, turning around, "let's check on the oven, and we need to clean up all this flour too. Imagine what Jim would say if—"

Her speech was cut off as she felt a short, sharp tug at the back of her head, then felt her hair tumble all the way down her back. She turned to see Ross smiling that flutter-inducing smile at her, holding up her hair elastic in his hand.

"Just fell out," he shrugged with the same smile, "I still don't understand why you keep it tied up. It's beautiful down."

Demelza was too surprised by the use of that one word to speak properly. He was silent, watching her, observing her and her reaction. His eyes sparkled the same way they had the night before and his mouth was set in a permanent smile, which wasn't what he was used to. Demelza opened her mouth and closed it, then opened it again to croak a barely coherent sentence out.

"Gets in my way," she said oddly, "I….never have it down."

She didn't know what to say or how to react to that word, especially coming from him. He smiled wider and moved towards her, placing himself behind her. He gathered all of her hair up in his hand.

"Okay. I'll tie it back up then."

She hesitated and tried to look behind herself but she couldn't. It felt odd, his hands so close to her. He was gentle and practiced with his grip and he replaced the elastic easily. But it was a ponytail, not a bun as it had been before. He brushed it to rest over her shoulder and moved back in front of her. He liked the way her hair looked, curly and free and wild, a bit like his own. It fell elegantly and looked perfect, even when it was dusted with flour.

"What about my bun?" she asked, looking down to see her heavy curls falling all the way to her waist.

"If you won't have it down, then at least you can have it like this. I like it like this."

She looked up at him and cocked her head very slightly to the side, leaning back against the island, considering his face up close. His stubble had grown a little and his hair was unruly from the result of her hands. He looked tired, but happy.

"You like it? And because you like it, I should do it?" she asked boldly.

Ross's mouth turned up one side and his cheerful smile turned into a rather wicked smirk. He stepped forward, his shoulders swinging as he moved closer, so close that Demelza had to look up to see his face properly.

"Yes," he murmured, so quiet it was almost a whisper, "if I like it, you should do it."

His eyes sparkled, the deep brown turning slightly emerald at the edges as he caught her gaze and held it. Her breath caught slightly as she felt the rim of the counter at her back and Ross' solid warmth at her front. She didn't want to look away and she didn't think she could. She searched his eyes for something that would tell her what he was thinking, but she didn't need to. He moved closer to place his arms on the counter either side of her, his eyes dark.

"Maybe you should wear your hair like this more often, when you're at home," he murmured. His voice was low and he held her gaze unflinchingly, aware that she couldn't pull away. He broke it after an age and leaned down to her ear, whispering softly.

"But only for me."

His voice was a deep growl and the very tone rippled through her entire body, making her exhale and arch suddenly. Her head spun and she felt like she'd fall, gripping his chest tight for support. He wrapped one arm around her to hold her up and she fisted his shirt in her hand desperately. She wanted it again, she wanted to hear his voice close to her ear, the same way he'd just spoken to her. Ross obliged.

"I want you to wear your hair loose, just for me….will you do that?"

Demelza closed her eyes, wanting to block everything out but the sound of his voice. She nodded and pulled him closer with a tug on his shirt. He brushed his nose against her ear and listened to her shaky breathing, opening his mouth to speak again until he felt his pocket vibrate frantically. Demelza opened her eyes and looked down, letting go of his shirt suddenly. He fished in his pocket angrily, swiping and turning away.

"What is it, Elizabeth? What now?"

Demelza watched him in shock and held both hands to her chest, trying to gather herself. She looked around to see flour all over the floor and counters. Her mind became logical suddenly and she turned to the oven, putting on the oven glove to remove the well cooked beef wellington, setting the tray on the top before throwing the oven glove on the counter and walking out quickly. She breathed in out slowly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She didn't really know whether this was reality or a crazy dream she was experiencing and she didn't know what to do. She stood in the lobby, looking at the front door, the living room and the kitchen behind her alternately, unsure of where to go. She looked behind her to see her every step marked by a floury shoe print and decided to go upstairs and stay in her bedroom for the rest of the night. Her own pocket started vibrating before she'd even set foot on the stairs.

"Yes, Mr Enys?" she said shakily, wiping her face in paranoia.

"Demelza, are you sure the statement you sent me from Ross is correct?"

"Yes….why? What happened?" she furrowed her brow and sat down on the bottom step.

"You write that Ross said Prudie, the housekeeper, called him to tell him Joshua was dead, and she told him that she had heard someone enter the house and thought it was him, so didn't check?"

"Yes…."

"I just spoke to Prudie and she said that she did indeed make that phonecall to inform Ross of his father's death, but she said she saw a glimpse of Ross in that living room. She said she was passing by the room and saw a split second of someone she positively identified as Ross, speaking angrily to Joshua."

Demelza froze as she heard Dwight speak. That couldn't be right.

"Mr Enys, that's false. Mr Poldark clearly said that Prudie called him and told him she saw a syringe on the floor and someone enter the house and speak to Joshua Poldark. And she said that yes, at first she thought it was his son, but when she called Mr Poldark and found that he was in London, her concern wasn't there anymore. And I can prove that he was in London, his cousin Verity Poldark and his girlfriend Elizabeth Chynoweth, who both spoke to him and saw him in person respectively, are ready to speak to me and give their statements."

"And what times are we looking at for these conversations and meetings?"

"Between 6-8 PM."

"And it'd take 4-5 hours for Ross to reach Cornwall from London, putting him well within the time frame of the murder."

Demelza buried her forehead in her hand and shook her head, her voice becoming louder and impassioned.

"That's not true, Mr Enys! He said he made dinner and stayed at home for the rest of the night until 1 AM—"

"And do you think the prosecution and jury will believe him? Was there anyone to confirm this? No, there wasn't. I thought you were convinced he was guilty? Don't let your feelings cloud your judgement. Prudie was a witness who wasn't willing to testify before. Now she's happy to come to court out of the blue. Someone's lying here, Demelza. I hope it's not Ross."

The call disconnected and Demelza closed her eyes slowly, lowering her head. It had started to hurt. She heard Ross' angry, muffled tone from the kitchen. The trial was the day after tomorrow and everything was going wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

The first hearing progressed just as Dwight and Demelza had said it would. The charges against Ross were laid out and Dwight and George had introduced themselves to the judge, presenting their credentials and those of their team. Ross watched with interest, he'd never been in a court room before. His nerves and anger had disappeared and he was more indifferent now. The lawyers presented their introductory statements to the court and then the session was adjourned, to be resumed tomorrow.

Ross exhaled and stood up as the judge left, turning to Demelza.

"Was that okay?"

"It was good," she reassured, gathering her papers, "it was a good start. Tomorrow's the real deal, both sides will be presenting evidence. George's got Prudie's testimony, your DNA on your father's jacket, your father's toxicology report and your presumed motive. We've got the syringe."

Ross stared at her in shock as he followed her out of the court room.

"The syringe? That's all the evidence we've got to defend me with? The fact that my fingerprints weren't on the syringe?"

"Someone else's were, Mr Poldark. We just need to find out who."

Ross wasn't able to fully process what Demelza had said when a police officer collared him and cuffed his hands in front of his body. Ross growled and struggled.

"Don't, it doesn't look good," whispered Demelza as the jury filed out too, "you're in police custody, you need to be cuffed sometime."

Two officers grabbed him either side and marched him out of the courthouse where once again, reporters were waiting with the same questions he'd faced this morning. He glared and stuck his middle finger up at them, causing the crowd to erupt in camera flashes.

Ross ducked his head and got into the police car, finding Demelza already seated next to him on the back seat. He took a moment to gather himself and realised what was about to go down. He was in police custody and he knew what that meant.

"Are these bastards taking me to a prison cell? I am not spending tonight in prison, I haven't fucking done anything!" he yelled in anger as the officer sat in the driver's seat.

Demelza opened her mouth to reply, but her client was in full swing. She sighed and let him finish, looking down at the notes she'd written in court today. She had studied behavioural analysis voluntarily at law school, picking the module of her own choice from the Psychology Department when she'd been allowed. She'd written some notes on George's behaviour which she was keen to send to Dwight. Rain began to hammer the outside of the car and trickle down the windows. Siri had said it would rain all day, maybe with thunderstorms, she mused.

"I'm not a fucking criminal! If they fucking lock me up like a….an animal, I'll have them for it! Even the Met Police don't do this to me! They've arrested me a shit ton of times before and they've never locked me up!"

"This is Cornwall, Mr Poldark, not London," said the officer expressionlessly, "sadly, the powers that be extend all the way over here."

Ross paused in his rant as he saw the police station disappear behind them on the road. He turned to Demelza in surprise.

"Where are we going? Where are they taking us?"

Before she could reply, the car pulled up into a familiar driveway. As they drove, Ross' breath caught in his throat. A run down, dilapidated house appeared, with an old man standing at the door.

"Jud," whispered Ross quietly, craning to look out of the window, "Jud….Nampara…."

Demelza smiled and the officer opened the door for Ross, pulling the cuffs off. Ross walked straight to Jud, who caught him and hugged him for what seemed like an age. Demelza helped the officer take hers and Ross' luggage from the boot, setting it down on the gravelled driveway before he drove off.

"I'm so sorry, mab," muttered Jud over and over, patting Ross' back. Ross parted from him and grabbed his shoulders, a grin finding its way across his face through his tears.

"Look at you, you look so good!" remarked Ross with joy.

"Oh, don't ye be fla'ering me, boy! I look old and I know it! Wha' a pretty young girl! What be your name?" asked the old man.

Demelza smiled wide at his accent and stepped forward to shake his hand.

"This is Demelza, Jud, she's my lawyer."

Jud's face became serious, the jolly grin vanishing instantly. He gripped her hand tight as he led her inside.

"You mus' make sure to do yer best, Demelza, I know my Ross ain't done nothin', they'se juss after him for no reason! Prudie says she seen 'im 'ere that night and I say I didn't! I was there, I ain't seen nothin'! She's lyin', so she is!"

Demelza reassured him that she would do her best to make a good case for Ross and resolved to take a statement from Jud whenever she had time. Ross appeared behind them with the luggage and set it in the lobby, looking around. He was smiling wide and while Demelza had seen him like this often, she knew that this wasn't what he was always like. It reached up to his eyes this time and he almost buzzed with happiness.

"This was my home, Demelza. I grew up here," he gestured, looking around in joy, "I can't believe I'm staying here." He paused and turned to look at her. "But this is a crime scene. Why is the main suspect being allowed to live here?"

"The scene was washed down after all evidence was collected as per procedure," she explained gently, "it's your inheritance and you're allowed to live here. I thought you'd be more comfortable here than in a prison cell by yourself….technically you should be in prison as you're in custody, but your ankle tag's been fitted again and someone from the Met intervened this morning."

Ross smiled and looked around again, then his face dropped. He walked down the corridor and pushed a door open to reveal the living room. It was dark and rain was pounding the windows audibly. A large navy leather armchair sat by a raging, bright fire, casting pleasant shadows across the room. There was a snooker table on one side and sofas everywhere. Every look around the room brought a fresh memory. The rug which he used to sit on to play with his trains because it was the only surface they used to work on. The desk at which his father used to sit to work. The pink floral fabric one seater couch opposite the armchair where his mother used to sit and admonish him for wearing holes in his clothes while darning them.

He moved towards the armchair and knelt in front of it, running his hand over the cracked, warm leather. His father had died in this chair. He breathed out evenly, his body shaking. Tears wouldn't come out, it was past that now. He sat back on his hind legs and stared at the empty chair. It hit him like a wave, knocking all the air out of him suddenly. He had no one left. He had no parents, no siblings, no immediate family. He had his cousins, he had Verity and Francis and he resolved to hold onto them and always be there for them. They had their parents and they had each other, they didn't know how lucky they were.

"Ross? Dinner."

He turned to see Demelza motioning towards the dining room where Jud was waiting, waving cheerfully next to the table. Ross smiled and got up.

"I'm just gonna get changed, okay?"

Demelza nodded and walked in to the dining room, chatting animatedly with Jud as she sat down next to her plate. They talked for what seemed like forever and Jud spent the time telling Demelza priceless stories from Ross' childhood. Ross came back to Jud and Demelza roaring with laughter. She wiped her eyes and turned to him, suppressing giggles.

"Sorry, please, come sit down."

Jud winked at Demelza and walked out of the room.

"What were you two laughing at?" said Ross, narrowing his eyes as he sat down opposite her.

Demelza smiled as she began to eat, appraising Ross carefully. He'd changed out of his suit into his casual uniform of tracksuit bottoms and that grey Henley shirt Demelza loved so much.

"Jud was just telling me some stories about when you were little," offered Demelza.

"Oh, God," murmured Ross, sipping his wine, "don't even go there, you don't want to know. Apparently, I was a little monster and then I turned into the manifestation of the devil."

Demelza couldn't resist a laugh, resting her chin on her hand to look at him as he ate. He looked up at her, suddenly self conscious.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Observing client behaviour," she said in a serious voice, "it's part of my job."

Ross snorted and finished his food with record speed. Demelza hadn't even finished half of her plate and without excusing himself, Ross got up and opened the back door of the dining room, which she discovered led out onto the patio. A thunderstorm was making its way closer and closer and now the rain had become torrential. It was loud and he could barely see in front of his face, but he leaned against the doorway and watched it. It drowned out a lot of the horrid things he was thinking and he needed some white noise. He sighed and took his phone out of his pocket as he heard it ring, looking down to see Francis' name.

"Hey, what's good?" he asked cheerfully, looking out into the rain, "so glad you called, man."

"I just wanted to see how you are," came Francis' concerned voice, "how did the first hearing go?"

"It was okay. I pleaded not guilty. Apparently shit will get real tomorrow, but I'm fine so far."

"Thank God. I was gonna tell you, Dad's coming over, he wants to see you. Is that okay?"

"Sure, Uncle can come any time he likes, you know that."

"Thanks. Look, I gotta go, but stay strong, okay? I'm with you all the way, you know that. Take care."

Ross replied and ended the call, turning around to address Demelza.

"My uncle's coming over to pay his respects."

"That's fine, I'll be working anyway, I've got statement prep to do for tomorrow. If you could direct me towards my bedroom, I'll get started."

An hour later, Demelza was sequestered in her room, tapping away on her laptop with Dwight on Skype. She had removed the receiver and monitor from Ross' house in London and had secreted it in a bookcase again in his room in Nampara, and had deigned to change into her nightclothes before starting work. Dwight was staying in a hotel and he and Demelza were working together on forming a strongly worded defence surrounding the syringe. They were working through potential people to cross reference the fingerprints with when Dwight heard a bang.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's just Ross' uncle, he's come over to pay his respects," said Demelza dismissively, looking down at her paper.

"What does Uncle Poldark do?" asked Dwight curiously. Demelza looked up at him in confusion.

"He's a property developer, works around this area, buy to lets and renovations and stuff like that. Oh….oh, wait."

Dwight raised his eyebrows, sipping his coffee as he watched her rifle through her papers, pulling out Ross' statement.

"Joshua Poldark told his son he was going to Cornwall on January 2nd to speak to 'big guys' in the area about renovating Nampara…."

Dwight paused.

"Go on."

"I've already sent you my theory about Elizabeth, but to be honest, this seems more probable. What if Ross' uncle got wind of what Joshua was about to do and was angry that his brother wasn't handing over the contract to revamp the house to him? Nampara is old and in a shoddy state, it's a big figure contract Charles would have lost out on."

"Wait, I have Joshua's will here. The crucial thing is that it was made when Ross was still a child and hasn't been amended since then. All inheritance goes to Ross, money, art, investments, bonds, savings, cars, boats, jets, property….all property but Nampara."

Demelza knitted her eyebrows together and sipped her own tea, looking over her papers quickly. She knew she was on to something, she got the gut feeling that she was right.

"But why? Nampara's his son's childhood home. Mr Poldark has a lot of memories of this place, Mr Enys. I don't believe his father would have left it out of his will."

"Nampara, being in unsafe and invalid condition for habitation, must be made habitable before being formally owned by my son, Ross Poldark. The aforementioned property will be reinstated by me in my lifetime," read Dwight, "if the property is not made habitable in my lifetime, it will pass to my brother, Charles Poldark, who will in turn agree to make it so and pass it to my son, Ross Poldark."

Demelza froze with her mug in her hand and raised her gaze to stare straight at Dwight on her computer. Dwight set the paper down and looked back at her.

"Demelza, is Charles in the building right now?"

"Yes," she replied robotically, her heart rising to her throat as Dwight leaned forward.

"Demelza, you need to get his fingerprints. You need to do it right now, you might not have another opportunity."

Demelza nodded and minimised the Skype window, getting up and dusting her dress off, walking down the stairs confidently, though she felt nothing but. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Ross sitting in his father's armchair and his uncle sitting opposite him, both in deep and serious conversation. The stairs creaked and Ross turned to see Demelza standing awkwardly.

"Uncle, this is Demelza, my lawyer," he said quietly.

Charles smiled and got up, shaking her hand quickly.

"I'm Charles, Ross' uncle, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for advocating for my nephew, what you and Dwight are doing means so much to us as a family. Of course, we support Ross all the way but we wouldn't be able to do anything if it wasn't for you."

Demelza nodded along inanely, looking him over. Just his touch made her shiver. He was a fat, ungainly man wearing a badly fitting cricket sweater and farmer's hat. He looked nothing like his brother, nephew or son and Demelza wondered where the Poldark men got their looks from.

"I don't know where Mr Poldark's manners are," said Demelza airily, "he hasn't offered you a drink. Would you like some water or tea?"

"A glass of whisky, if you have it. Ross, do you want some?"

Ross nodded as he stared into the fire and Demelza walked to the side cupboard, assuming that was where the alcohol would be. Her guess was right and she quickly removed two crystal cut tumblers from the cupboard, pulling out a clean white handkerchief to rub them down carefully. She poured and gave them to the men, engaging in mundane conversation with Charles until he finished. She took Ross' glass and offered it to Charles so he could set his on top in a little tower.

She walked off into the kitchen and carefully took Charles' glass out with the white cloth, carrying it down by her side surreptitiously as she passed through the living room again and up the stairs to her bedroom. When she reached, she maximised the window and showed Dwight with a proud smile. He smiled back too, looking up from his papers.

"Good. That's brilliant, well done. Keep it safe, I'll collect it from you tomorrow and have the lab run a priority check on it. I hope it matches, I really do. The girlfriend theory is plausible, but the motive isn't as strong as the one we've got here. Good work, Demelza. Next step, tell Ross what we've found and prepare him for the trial date tomorrow. If the print matches, I'll call up Charles as a suspect."

"I'll obtain as much information as I can on Charles and Joshua's relationship, documents that detail Charles' business ventures and any legal or familial disputes they may have had in the past. I'll get back to you if I find anything, okay?"

Dwight responded in the affirmative and ended the call. Demelza got back to work busily on the internet, using her law chambers' log in to access documents that weren't made public. She easily pulled up invoices and plans for multi million pound renovations that Charles Poldark had masterminded in Cornwall, some for holiday homes, some out on private islands around the coastline, complete with pictures. She found a small but pertinent history of a legal dispute between Charles and a customer, who had accused Charles of forcing him into handing over two more properties than those agreed. But family tensions and personal relationships, they were something that she could only investigate by speaking to Ross. She crept downstairs and paused, making sure Charles wasn't there before proceeding.

Ross was standing at the back door again, staring out at the rain. He didn't turn as he spoke.

"Demelza."

She stepped forward carefully, setting her file down on the dining table. She wasn't sure how he'd react.

"Ross, I—"

"Need to ask you some questions," he finished with a grim smile, turning around to face her.

"I'm afraid so, yes. We….might have another suspect in this case."

Ross furrowed his brow and sat down, listening intently.

"Your father wrote his will when you were still a child, and in that will, he left you everything but Nampara. He said he wanted to renovate it and fix it up before giving it to you and in case he wasn't able—"

"Wait, what do you mean? This house isn't mine?"

Ross looked at her in astonishment, his eyes wide. He didn't understand what was happening.

"I'm afraid not," she explained, "he wanted to make it 'habitable,' which is fancy speak for renovating it to make it safe to live in, before you could have it. He was afraid about the state of neglect, so he wanted to fix it, but said if he wasn't able to do that during his lifetime, your uncle Charles should take the house, renovate it and pass it onto you. Your uncle signed the will also to prove this."

Ross nodded along, still shocked by the revelation that the house he was sitting in and grew up in wasn't his.

"Uncle…..came around to say sorry for Dad's death, but he was….talking about doing the place up, asking me if I wanted to do anything in particular with it….." trailed off Ross, and she could see the cogs stirring in his brain. He looked up at her suddenly. "You think Uncle killed Dad?"

"It's a theory Dwight and I are working on. I took your uncle's fingerprints from the glass I gave him to drink and Dwight will ask the lab to run a cross check on the prints we got from the syringe. If it's a match, we may have enough evidence to convict your uncle of murder."

She had expected Ross to protest, but his shoulders slumped as he stared at his clasped hands.

"I could see it happening. It sounds sick as hell, but Dad and Uncle always….had….issues, you know. Us cousins never really understood it since they only had each other, no other siblings, but….they always squabbled over trivial things. Uncle hated it when Dad moved out of Cornwall to London, he felt like Dad was leaving him to fend for himself here. Family dinners were always tense, Dad and Uncle always fought with each other and it made Mum angry too. Mum thought Uncle was siphoning money off Dad and Dad always wanted to help him. I wasn't aware of what Dad had said in his will about Nampara, but maybe he wrote it so Uncle would be happy."

Ross had explained everything Demelza was about to say, so she was silent for a while. Ross mulled it over and his feeling of anger towards his uncle subsided. He didn't have time for that.

"The trial proper starts tomorrow," said Demelza quietly, "and now we've got this new line of inquiry, our case is getting stronger. I do need to speak to Jud about what he saw the night of the murder, because his and Prudie's stories don't correlate."

"He can tell you all about the animosity between Uncle and Dad," said Ross tiredly, "he knows all about it. You don't have to explain anything to me, I know they'll cross examine me tomorrow and I'll tell them the truth. I won't get too angry."

Demelza looked up at him in surprise. She didn't like that he was so compliant, that he was ready to do what she was going to tell him. His resistance had gone the moment his shoulders had slumped. He got up wearily and walked out of the dining room, taking his father's seat in front of the fire. He'd had time to process his father's death, but this was a new blow, a fresh wound of sorts.

Just hours before, Ross had come to realise he had no one. Apart from his cousins and his uncle and aunt, but it seemed he didn't have them either. He couldn't blame Verity or Francis for what their father had done, perhaps they knew nothing of it. But he'd lost one more family member and whether the theory was true or not, it still wouldn't leave him until he knew the truth of the matter. His suitcase lay open in front of the fire and he reached down to find a pack of cigarettes, but his hand brushed against something else. He fished a transparent packet of white powder out of the case and sighed, opening it up and fishing out his credit card from his wallet. He tipped a little out onto the coffee table in front of him and leaned forward until he heard Demelza yawn, the tinkle of her glass of water on the table and the scratching of her pen. He paused, turning to watch her. She had her back to him and her head was bent over, the hem of her night gown pooling on the floor. He swept the powder back into the packet and threw it into the flames, tossing her wallet into the suitcase.

He turned to see Demelza still sitting at the dining table, her files in front of her. He hadn't realised that in the short time he'd been entertaining his uncle, she'd been uncovering such significant details about his case. He got up and walked to her, leaning against the doorframe behind to watch her. She already knew he was walking over from the purposeful stomp of his boots. Without a word, she reached up and tugged at her hair elastic so her hair fell wildly down her back and shook it out for good measure. Ross laughed and she got up, turning around with a smile on her face, motioning for him to join her as she opened the door he'd been standing at before, looking out onto the vast back garden. She could spot a moss-covered fountain through the haze of the rain and felt Ross stand next to her, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame. It was surprising how different she looked from the court room. She'd tied her gown around her with a dainty satin ribbon and her hair tumbled everywhere freely. He liked the way she looked when she wasn't working.

"Everything will be okay tomorrow," she said quietly, "we're building a strong case. I've got some documents that go through your uncle's professional exploits, he's had disagreements with clients in the past and that could come in useful, alongside Jud's statements, to prove he's a belligerent person and had personal issues with your father."

Ross didn't reply, but kept staring out at the garden, his arms crossed over his chest.

"George will probably ask you about your whereabouts and what you did on the day of the murder. He'll ask you a bit about who can prove you were at home on that day. Prudie might make an appearance on the witness stand, they might bring out the DNA and the toxicology report along with your criminal record for possession."

Ross was still silent, but turned so his back was against the door frame. She turned to face him too.

"What is it?"

"How long will it take for the fingerprints to come back?"

"Within the day….everything's moving pretty fast. They want a quick trial."

Ross nodded and turned his head to look out at the rain again. He didn't like the sound of 'they.'

"I wish I was back in London….even if I spent my entire day watching TV and eating junk food, at least I wouldn't be in the middle of this shit storm. I love Nampara but….

Demelza smiled and nudged his boot with her flimsy flats.

"Well, at least we're both in this shit storm together, right?"

Ross turned and smiled.

"Yeah, I suppose we are."

He yawned and stretched, his hands behind his head, uncovering that little strip of skin Demelza had seen back in London. She couldn't stop herself from looking again, but quickly turned away to look outside.

"It might rain all night," she said quickly, nodding her head towards the garden unnecessarily.

"I wish it would."

Ross held out his hand for hers and she took it furtively, wondering where he would take her. She wasn't prepared to go out into the rain, certainly not dressed like this. Instead of dragging her anywhere, he moved towards her and pressed her against the doorframe, lifting her face up to look at him. She felt his arms slip around her, his hands resting on the small of her back. Although thunder began to crash outside, she felt strangely comfortable and that was when she realised he was looking at her.

"I wish it'd rain all night," he murmured, stroking her jaw with his thumb, "I wish we could stay here, no court, no trials, nothing. Just this."

Demelza smiled, resting back against the door frame. A thousand thoughts were flying through her brain but they were all unintelligible apart from one; how nice it felt to be so close to him. His kiss was deep and far from soft, she barely had time to breathe as he tugged her bottom lip. She lifted up onto her tiptoes to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as he bit and kissed her lips, his tongue flicking hers fiercely. When they finally broke apart, her breath came in pants and she tried to speak, but Ross untied her gown, slipping his hands under it to feel her body, pulling her closer roughly as he latched his lips onto her neck, kissing and biting madly. She buried her fingers in his tangle of curls, pulling him closer if that was possible, but Ross was on fire, his hands pressing her body close to his as he swirled his tongue over her neck. She bit her lip hard and pulled away, panting and attempting to speak again before Ross kissed her over and over.

"We have all the time in the world," she breathed against his lips between kisses.

"But I want you now."

Ross' voice was a low growl and his skin was hot to the touch as he took her hand and pulled her inside.

"Where are we going?" she asked quickly as he pulled her towards the stairs, but she already knew the answer.

"My bedroom."

He turned to kiss her again at the foot of the stairs and he couldn't stop himself from slipping his hands under her gown, running them over the silk of her dress, pulling her close. She fell back against the wall and he renewed his fervour, bruising her lips with his frantic kisses, their breath mingling as he pulled away for a moment to slip her gown off to the floor, pressing her against the wall with his body. His hands slipped under her dress and she bit her lip, looking up and locking eyes with him.

"Even if we had eternity, I'd want to spend every second of it inside you."

Demelza gasped in shock but before she could respond, she felt his lips on hers and his fingers pulling aside the crotch of her underwear, stroking deeply and firmly until she was moaning uncontrollably against his lips, her entire body tensed and arched, the only thing holding her up were his constant kisses all over her lips and neck, his hand holding her to him tight.

"Show me," he whispered against her lips, slowing the movement of his fingers until it was barely tangible, making her whimper desperately as she grabbed his chest to pull him closer, "show me how you want me to touch you."

His voice was low and powerful, enough to send ripples through her body. His eyes never left hers as she reached down to place her hand on top of his. He bit his lip as he watched her, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers so softly. It was hard for him to hold his restraint, but even harder for her. Her body trembled with anticipation, looking up at him. His eyes were dark but open, somehow, his hair wild and he flicked his tongue out to lick his lips slowly, purposefully, making her shiver.

"Inside me….please," the ghost of a whisper passed her lips as she pressed on his hand. She gasped and stood upon tiptoes as he did what she wanted for barely a second before pulling his hand away and picking her up, holding her up against the wall with her dress around her waist. She grabbed the nearby desk for support, feeling his stubble scratch her neck as he reached lower to rip her underwear, tossing it aside dismissively. He rocked his hips into hers over and over and slipped his hands under her dress again, running them over her body, feeling her all over, his hungry growls reverberating through her body like the thunder outside. An unintelligible sound escaped his own lips as he felt her skin for the first time, soft and warm, enough to make him bite at her lips again like an animal. Every bite caused her to gasp and she demanded more, pulling his hips tight to hers, pulling at the neck of his shirt until a furious banging was heard at the door.

"Police, open up!"

Ross stepped back and helped Demelza down, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the sound. She quickly picked up her nightgown and wrapped it around her, tying it in panic as the banging became louder and louder, the voices more furious.

"Ross Poldark, police! Open up!"

"What the fuck?" he muttered, walking over to the door.

"Wait, let me," she said breathlessly, running in front of him through the lobby to open the door, slicking back her hair carefully.

"Officers, what see—"

"Where is Ross Poldark?"

Five officers crowded the doorway and were soaked head to foot. A pair of cuffs shone in their hands and Ross appeared, his clothes rumpled, his features contorted in confusion.

"What's going on, what do you want? I'm at home, aren't I? My ankle tag—"

"Ross Poldark, you're under arrest for intimidating a key witness in the trial of the murder for which you are accused. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

They stormed in and grabbed Ross' arms, forcefully pulling them behind his back, cuffing him and dragging him out of the house. Demelza stared after, she didn't have time to call Dwight and ask him what was going on.

"Let go of me! I haven't fucking done anything! Let go of me, you bastards!"

Ross struggled and spat aggressively at the officers as they dragged him so quickly he was barely able to walk. He turned as they opened the car door, the rain instantly soaking him. He shook his hair out of his face,, struggling against the cuffs as hard as he could, looking back at Demelza.

"What the fuck is going on?!" he yelled, loud enough for Jud to come running to the door.

The officers forced Ross into the car, almost throwing him in and closing the door. The car drove down the driveway and disappeared and Demelza turned to Jud urgently.

"I need keys, car keys, I need a car, right now," she babbled.

Jud turned to a box by the door and grabbed a set of keys, directing her towards the garage at the side of the house. It was a fancy car, but she didn't have time to appreciate that right now, all she wanted was to go to the police officer and find out what was going on. Someone really hated Ross.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr Poldark? Ross Vennor Poldark?" Demelza asked breathlessly, keys tinkling in her hand as she slammed her hands down on the counter. The police officer looked at her curiously.

"Down there, first left."

Demelza ran, the hem of her nightgown trailing wetly on the floor behind her. Ross' location was immediately obvious due to the amount of noise coming from it.

"What are you charging me with?! At least explain the charge!" he yelled as the barred door closed with a clang.

"We've already told you, Sir, you're under arrest for intimidating a witness."

"But I haven't even spoken to anyone here!" he shouted angrily, slamming his hands against the bars of his temporary holding cell, "You can ask my lawyer, she's been with me all the time, I've only spoken to my lawyers and my housekeeper! Let me out!"

Demelza ran forward and grabbed the hands that were resting on the bars. Ross leaned forward to kiss her hard through the bars, grasping her hands too.

"What am I here for? What are they talking about?"

He was sodden, his hair sticking to his skin, water dripping off him to form pools by his feet. His grey shirt was turned almost black with saturation and Demelza was much the same. Her own hair was dripping uncomfortably and she bit her lip, leaning forward to answer before she was manhandled by a police officer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" yelled Ross angrily, "Let her go!"

"Excuse me, madam, Mr Poldark is not allowed any visitors until he's processed," explained the officer, ignoring Ross completely.

"I'm not a visitor," she said tersely, shaking her arm out of his grip, "I'm his lawyer."

The officer stared, his moustache twitching as he looked her up and down.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, madam, but you look nothing like a lawyer, especially not Ross Poldark's lawyer."

"I'm Demelza Carne, I work for Dwight Enys as part of Ross Poldark's legal team in his trial, which is taking place tomorrow. I'm here to legally represent my client as is his right enshrined in law, which I believe you seek to uphold. What I wear or how I look has nothing to do with the job I'm here to undertake."

The officer was about to reply when Dwight walked in, tossing his umbrella aside. His suit was dry and the officer stared at him.

"Dwight Enys, legal counsel for Ross Poldark. Demelza, with me, please," he said briskly.

She glared at the officer and made her way over to where Dwight and Ross stood either side of the bars. She could see the anger in Ross' eyes and it was hard for him to keep a balanced voice.

"Why am I here? Which witness are they talking about?"

"I'm going to go and find out," said Demelza, "Mr Enys, you stay with Mr Poldark."

"Demelza, what in God's name are you wearing?" snapped Dwight, looking her over, "have some decency, take this."

He took off his suit jacket and threw it at her. She frowned and looked down at herself. She knew she was sodden and looked a mess, but that was when she realised that the barrage of rain she'd faced outside had rendered the pale coloured silk see through. She gasped and quickly donned the oversize jacket, walking over to the desk to speak to the officers who had arrested him.

"I don't know what's going on, honestly, I don't," muttered Dwight through the bars, "but did Demelza tell you about our newest line of inquiry?"

"Yeah, she did. I'm behind it, it's believable. Pursue it if you think it'll get us somewhere."

Ross sighed and moved away from the bars, pushing his mass of wet tangles back from his forehead, wiping his face clean and looking around the cell.

"Witness intimidation," he whispered, closing his eyes, "I don't even know who George's witnesses are."

Demelza reappeared looking serious and the three of them congregated at the bars again.

"Prudie called and insisted that you came over to her house and started asking her not to testify tomorrow. You reportedly became violent and then left, but she was in fear for her life so she called the police because she was worried you'd come over again."

Ross scoffed, too shocked to believe what she was saying.

"But I've been at home all night, you know that, you've been with me. Where are they getting this from?"

"Where is Prudie now? Where did she go from Nampara?" asked Dwight.

"Trenwith. To live with Charles Poldark," said Demelza darkly.

"Uncle said he took her in after she left Nampara and he was aware that she wanted to testify against me but he thought he'd be able to dissuade her and convince her that what she saw was just a dream or something," said Ross quickly.

Dwight and Demelza shared a look, making Ross feel uncomfortable.

"Anyhow, you're being released as the ankle tag's coordinates prove you were at home all evening."

"Thank fuck," came Ross' reply as the officer opened up the door he'd closed only a few moments ago and Ross stepped out, walking out quickly with Dwight and Demelza, getting soaked in the process. He didn't want to stay in there for longer than was necessary. They sent Dwight on his way with his suit jacket and Ross turned to the car Demelza had brought in a hurry.

"You drove my Maserati?" he asked incredulously, taking the keys from her. She sighed and walked towards the car.

"Yes, I drove your Maserati. It was the first car in the garage and I was more concerned about getting to you in time than finding an appropriate vehicle."

Ross shook his head in disappointment, wanting to check the car over for injury. He laughed and was about to open the door when everything went black. He felt a sharp pain at his forehead and steadied himself, turning to see a man dressed in black with his arm pulled back. Another sharp jab landed on his jaw and Ross had been in enough bar fights to know how to handle this. The man pulled back again, but Ross grabbed his fist and twisted it until he was bent over, kicking him twice in the neck with his shin and throwing him onto the floor. It was then that Ross noticed the man's face was covered up to his eyes with a black fabric, almost like a balaclava. The rain made it hard to differentiate the man from the pavement, but Ross grabbed him and dragged him upwards, intending to pull the mask off his face, but the man had other ideas. Two sharp punches to his forehead rendered him unsteady for a minute and he fell, his head hitting the corner of the car. He felt warm liquid wash away with cold rain just above his eye and groaned, forcing himself back up to see the man slam Demelza against the car. She was a flash of white in the sea of black and Ross moved towards him, grabbing the hand that was at Demelza's throat and sharply pulling it back until he heard a crack. He cried out in pain and Demelza opened the car door, motioning for Ross to get inside while she ran over to the driver's seat.

Ross, however, wasn't interested in leaving. Demelza watched the men exchange punches and stuck the keys in the ignition, turning the engine on. A well placed kick rendered the man immobile for a minute and he lay on the pavement groaning, clutching his stomach. Ross stamped once, twice for good measure and was about to reach forward to pull the balaclava off, but the man crawled away slowly and got up, clutching his stomach as he ran through the rain. They both stared after him and Ross caught his breath, turning back to lean against the car. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky, letting the rain wash over his face. He felt blood dilute and trickle away down his neck, and he was about to touch his lip to feel the extent of the damage before he felt Demelza's lips on his. Hers were wet too, but warm and soft, welcoming him into her as she ran her hands up his soaking shirt, melting into him slightly. She could taste the coppery tang of blood, but she soothed the cut carefully with her tongue, the kiss much softer and giving than their first. Ross looked down at her and smiled, but she frowned and carefully touched his temple. He winced in pain and she took his hand, pulling him to get into the car.

During the drive home, they discussed who it could possibly be but short of 'someone who didn't Ross,' they didn't really have anyone in mind. Jud fussed over them when they returned home but Ross reassured him and sent him off to sleep, shutting his door carefully. He returned to the living room to see Demelza kneeling in front of the fire, her hair curling slightly as it dried. She was sorting through a first aid box, but he wiped his lip and forehead clean. It was good enough for him. Demelza, however, was hearing none of it and forcefully pulled him down to sit in front of her. He had to admit that the warmth of the fire was very welcome.

"Honestly, I don't know what possessed you," she murmured as she cleaned up his forehead, dabbing it with antiseptic, "who do you think you are, one of the Avengers?"

Ross chuckled and sat still, choosing not to tell her about his appetite for fighting. Although he'd been sober tonight, so that was good. He spied a bottle of whisky on the table and picked it up. She opened her mouth to say something but he'd already taken a sip.

"I'll say it's for the pain," she said with a grin, working on his lip gently.

Ross narrowed his eyes and brushed her hair out of the way to look at her neck.

"He bruised your neck," he said incredulously, "look, it's going blue."

"I'll be fine, it's just a bruise."

She brushed his hand away and finished with his lip, disposing of the cotton pad and closing the first aid box.

"Now you drink your whisky and get changed out of your wet clothes."

She turned away and grabbed a comb from her open suitcase, brushing through her hair in front of the fire to get it dry. Her clothes had stopped dripping but they were still damp. Ross leaned back against the base of the couch to watch her. It was strangely calming. He put his bottle down and watched her for a few minutes. She turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know why you're still here but if you want me to touch you in any way, I'm not doing it with soggy clothes."

She turned back to the fire and resumed her hair brushing, tugging through the thick, unruly locks. She hated how the rain always caused her to get the strangest tangles in the middle of her hair, but soon she'd brushed it all out smoothly, turning to see Ross setting his shirt aside in a sodden lump next to him.

"No soggy clothes, right? I can do that."

Demelza wanted to be cool, she so desperately wanted to be cool, like she'd done this a thousand times before. But if she there was anything she wasn't, it was cool. Ross picked up his bottle of whisky again and took a swig, allowing her time to look him over. It wasn't his stereotypically perfect physique that enchanted her, but his tattoos. She'd never seen them before. Some on his arms, some over his chest. Words, mostly, a crucifix here and there as well as a rose and a burning angel. She looked at them curiously, then spotted the chain he was wearing, from which hung a ring and a cross.

"What's that?"

He looked down and grasped the pendants, playing with them.

"My dad's wedding ring and my mother's necklace."

"So it's not you who's religious?" she asked with a smile, setting her comb down.

"No, I am. I was raised a Catholic, but I just…never seem to find time to go to church," he said with a small smile, "but here you see the fruit of my extensive diet," he patted his hard stomach, "I might eat a lot but it does me good, you see?"

"Ah, yes, no sign of your excessive drug consumption," she said with narrowed eyes, "and I bet your confession would last a whole day."

Ross laughed and sipped his whisky again, smiling at her. He moved closer and lay down so his head was in her lap, facing up at him. She smiled and played with his hair, combing it out with his fingers so it would dry quicker. It was heavy and curled thickly with the water even though he'd attempted to dry it with a towel. She leaned down to kiss his forehead and smiled at how relaxed he seemed. The bottle rested next to him and he stared up at the ceiling, sometimes at her, sometimes around the room lazily. He liked this, he liked the feeling of her fingers working through his hair, it made him feel at ease. The company of other people was nice but he was always acutely aware they were never sincere and no one but Verity and Francis seemed to want to come and help him when he needed help. But with Demelza, he felt different. He felt like she actually cared about him even though he'd only known her for such a short amount of time.

He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers trace patterns on his chest, her other hand playing with his hair. He could fall asleep like this, but he didn't want to. He got up and set his bottle of whisky on the table, helping Demelza up. He took her hand and walked up the stairs with her as he heard her sigh.

"Your first trial date is tomorrow and you seriously want to—"

"No, I don't," he replied, ushering her into her bedroom, "I can't have sex with someone who calls me Mr Poldark. I feel like I'm fucking my doctor."

Demelza burst out laughing and he grinned, closing the door.

It was morning before they knew it and Demelza touched up her powder, walking out and intending to wake Ross up. She leaned down to fix her heels and smoothed down her dress, checking herself in the landing mirror. It was a nice wraparound black dress, sombre enough for the first trial date, but not too….lawyer-y. She retied the bow on the side and did a double take, checking that everything was perfect before knocking on Ross' door.

"Mr Poldark? We're getting late, we really need to leave now. Are you ready?"

There was no sound from inside and Demelza was instantly worried. He seemed like he was ready to take everything seriously yesterday, he couldn't possibly still be asleep. She knocked again, harder this time.

"Mr Poldark? Session commences in half an hour and we still need to meet with Mr Enys and go through our statements, I really need you to—"

The door opened to reveal Ross fixing his jacket, looking up at her quickly.

"What do you think? I picked Gucci this time, still Italian cut but the brand has a bit of a different flair."

He fixed his cufflinks and Demelza looked him up and down. He did look good, she had to admit. Another smart, tailored suit with a black tie and a navy silk pocket square this time, his shoes tied in perfect bows.

"You look good," she said, reaching forward to fix his tie again, but he took her hand and pulled her into his bedroom, pushing her swiftly against the wall with his lips on hers. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back over and over as he pulled her hips against his, smiling against her lips.

"We're getting late," she whispered as he ran his hands firmly down the sides of her body, her skin tingling at his touch.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" came his reply as he kissed her fiercely, his hands slipping under her dress to run up her thighs, his palms pressing against her skin as he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and he broke away from her lips to pull off his jacket, tossing it in a heap behind him quickly. His hands were back on her body in less than a second and she felt the same hungry, growling kisses he'd given her the night before. Her hands wandered over his chest and back, feeling his muscles move under his shirt, trailing her fingertips over him until he shivered with her touch. She bit his lip this time, taking him by surprise. His eyes sparkled and he sucked her bottom lip slowly, tormenting her by reaching between them to slip his hand beneath her underwear again. She gripped his shoulders hard and tipped her head back, crying out as she felt his fingers inside her. There was no teasing this time, not like before. His fingers worked quickly, searching out that spot inside her that made her shake, panting against his lips. She squeezed his shoulders hard to support herself but he held her up, reaching down to rip her underwear again, tossing it where he'd left his jacket. She would have complained but no words came out and all she wanted was him inside her. She wanted to finish what they'd started the night before, she wanted him as close to her as he could be.

"Please, I need it, I need it," she breathed repetitively against his lips. He smirked and feathered her neck with kisses, reaching behind her to tug her hair free of that damn elastic and loosening his tie, almost ripping his top button in the process. He enjoyed the sound of her begging for a few moments, running his hands over her to squeeze her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as he tugged the neck of her dress down her shoulders and ghosted his fingers over her nipples lightly, making her shiver. She jumped slightly as he bit her neck, tugging at the skin.

"Please, please, I need—"

"I won't, not until you use my name," he whispered into her ear, his hand slipping down to stroke her again. He teased her this time, locking eyes with her, his fingers slipping up and down with the rocking motion of her hips. She groaned in frustration, panting as she pulled him closer, his fingers quickening against her. The corner of his mouth turned up wickedly as he brought her closer and closer, she panted faster as she kissed him, reaching down to push his fingers deeper inside her, but he pulled away all at once.

"My name, Demelza."

His eyes sparkled roguishly, boring into her and he bit her bottom lip, sinking his fingers deep, making her cry out.

"Ross! Ross, please!"

"Good girl."

The words came out in a growl against her ear, making her shudder, his fingers coated with fresh wetness. She heard the sound of his fly unzipping and all at once, she felt him deep inside her, deeper than his fingers had been, more than anything she'd ever felt in her life. It was too much for her, she threw her head back reflexively, each thrust making her tremble. She never realised her voice could be so loud, but Ross loved making her scream. He wound one hand in her hair, pulling it back hard to expose her neck, his tongue pressing and sucking, panting hotly against her skin. He wanted to devour her, to possess her in every way he could. All he could feel was her, all he could process and think and see and smell and feel. He could feel her fingers in her hair too just like the night before and grabbed her hip tight as she slammed into the wall over and over with the force of his thrusts. The faint aroma of his expensive cologne mixed with sweat and she leaned forward to lick it from his neck, running her tongue up over his jaw. He whispered obscenities into her ear, mixing between kissing her lips and biting her neck, running his hands all over to feel how her body responded when he was inside her. She felt so good inside, so wet and perfect for him, but what electrified Ross was the repeated scream of his name on her lips, her body trembling uncontrollably, babbling incoherently.

"I need to, I'm so close, I need to," she whined, "please, don't stop—"

"Again, Demelza, say it again."

His own voice was deep and low, dripping like honey as he slowed his thrusts. She cried her refusal desperately, squeezing his upper arms, rocking her hips in an effort to feel more. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't able to speak properly.

"No, please, don't stop!"

"Again, Demelza," he whispered fiercely, cupping her face with one hand. He ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, feeling her spasm around him, his eyes scanning her face, "say it for me, I want to hear it from your mouth. Who am I?"

Her entire body tingled with the force of his gaze, with the need coursing through her, but she knew what he wanted and she loved the way he asked for it.

"My name, Demelza," he pressed his lips against hers but didn't kiss her, reaching down to stroke just above where they joined. She whimpered, reaching down, but he pulled her hand away, his voice laced with want, "I want to hear it. I want to hear you whisper it, scream it."

"Ross," she breathed, her eyes fixated on his, only one word on her lips, "Ross…Ross, please….Ross…."

Ross kissed her savagely, bruising her lips with that one kiss, making sure she said his name one last time before he sank into her, his entire body melting as he heard her scream, opening his eyes to watch her, to try and engrave into his mind how good she looked when she took all of him inside her. Her fingers raked his upper back as she tightened around him, her cry echoing around the room as something welled inside her and released. He pulled her into a kiss, deeper and softer than any he'd shared with her before, wrapping his arms around her tight and he made no attempt to stifle his own growls and moans, both of them panting. They kissed over and over as if it'd help them get their breath back and she saw his eyes burning deep green. She leaned back against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she reached out to touch his face, running her hand down to his neck and up again. He turned his head to kiss her palm softly and let her down. She stumbled, gripping the wall for support. Her legs ached and she looked down to see handprints on her thighs from where Ross had held her. She leaned back against the wall, fixing her dress as she watched Ross pick up his jacket, buttoning it up meticulously. He checked his cufflinks and fixed his top button and tie, running his fingers through his hair to set his curls. He looked at her, then at his watch.

"We're late, come on."

His words were matter of fact but his eyes twinkled micheviously. Demelza laughed, still catching her breath as she reached for her underwear, lifting a torn scrap of black silk.

"I think you can do without that," remarked Ross, "it's a bit past use now, isn't it?"

She stared at him in surprise. He wanted her to go to court without any underwear on?

"I don't think there's time to get a new pair. Court's in session."

He walked out and pattered down the stairs, yelling up at her.

"Come on, Demelza, car's waiting!"

"Ross! Demelza! Where have you been?! For God's sake, we've been waiting for you for half an hour, the judge was about to adjourn!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Mr Enys, there was traffic on the way from Nampara and we—"

"If there was traffic or some sort of hold up, you could have at least had the decency to inform me so I don't look like an idiot! My supporting lawyer and client have gone AWOL, how am I supposed to explain that!" whispered Dwight angrily as the judge gave George the okay to start his statement, "this is behaviour I didn't expect from you, Demelza! You're more professional than this! Ross, you could have been done for contempt of court, do you know that?!"

Ross sighed and straightened his tie, and that was when Dwight pulled back and surveyed them both. Demelza looked slightly dishevelled, her hair and dress out of place and her legs fidgeting under the table. She kept tugging at her dress and Ross seemed strangely relaxed. He played with his cufflinks and looked over at Demelza with a quiet grin. Dwight was astounded. He leaned over behind Demelza to get Ross' attention.

"Ross. Ross, are you and…? Have you….with Demelza? Don't try and shit me around, tell me the truth!"

Ross shrugged and looked at the judge. Dwight clenched his fists and felt like punching Ross there and then, but he'd get done for contempt of court instead.

"Ross, don't fuck with me."

"I'm not fucking with you. I'm fucking with her. What's your problem? If you like her, mate, you need to back off a bit. You're not her type," whispered Ross with a wink.

"I'm not inter…she's my….what the fuck?!"

He wanted to drag both Demelza and Ross out of the court room and unleash his anger on them, but he had a court session ahead of him and suddenly, all the notes he'd rehearsed had vanished from his mind. He sipped his water and tried to calm himself, picking up his phone as it buzzed. Ross leaned over as Demelza busily noted down George's main points.

"Dwight, look, don't get so tense about it, okay? It's a personal thing, it's got nothing to d—"

"Have you ever heard of never mixing business and pleasure, Ross? Or is pleasure your business? Don't try to fucking reason with me about something like this. I just got an email from the lab. Your uncle's prints don't match. We're back to square one."

He put his phone down angrily and stared straight ahead.

Ross froze, looking at where Dwight had been. He didn't register what he'd just said. The prints on the syringe weren't his uncle's? Then they were back to square one after all. All his nonchalance disappeared and he sat up straight on his seat, his mind running mad with probabilities and ideas. He needed to pull a theory out of his ass or this trial would not end well for him. Dwight whispered to Demelza and she turned to Ross with furrowed brows. She scribbled on a piece of paper, pushing it towards him. It read 'don't worry, everything will be ok.' Ross didn't reply.


	7. Chapter 7

Ross's hands began to shake a little as he reached for the glass of water on his table. He sipped it to steady himself as Demelza stood up to make a defending statement. He wasn't listening to what she said, but he felt Verity behind him, squeezing his shoulder again.

"Francis came too, for the first day," she whispered and Ross turned to see his cousin sitting alongside Verity. A grateful smile passed his lips and he reached behind him to grab Francis' hand, squeezing it.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

Francis nodded and squeezed his hand back, fixing his jacket.

"Don't worry about it, you know I'd always be there for you."

Ross smiled and turned back to the court room, trying to tune in to the proceedings. The judge gave him an angry look as he turned back from his cousins and Ross returned it, but his ears pricked upwards when he was asked to take to the stand. He looked over at Dwight and Demelza, but they nodded reassuringly and Ross stood up, making his way over. An officer stopped him and prepared to cuff him, but Ross raised his eyebrows at him and moved to the side, stepping up onto the stand.

"Your name, please."

"Ross Vennor Poldark."

George stood in front of him in full legal regalia, his face contorted in that ever present grimace, like he was trying to hide that stupid smug smile of his. Ross leaned forward with his elbows on the balcony and looked at him.

"Come at me, man."

The reporters on the top stand positively buzzed as they whispered to each other, but the judge banged his gavel until they were silent. George wasn't smiling anymore.

"Mr Poldark, you say you were at home on the evening of January 2nd but we have witnesses placing you in Cornwall, specifically in Nampara shortly before your father's murder. Were you in Cornwall at that time?"

"No."

"What were you doing at 8 PM on January 2nd?"

"Snorting coke."

Dwight sighed and buried his face in his hands as members of the jury gasped. Verity and Francis hid their laughter and Demelza turned to glare at them. She tried to catch Ross' eye but he wasn't looking her way.

"That does lead nicely onto my next question. You've been arrested not once, not twice, but three times for possession of controlled substances, including class A drugs such as cocaine. Do you admit to using these drugs?"

Ross sighed and leaned forward, chatting with George as if he was his friend.

"Well, obviously, I just said I was snorting coke, didn't I?"

George looked at the judge for his reaction, but even the judge was suppressing a laugh.

"I have evidence here, some statements from you about how often you ingested said controlled substances and how you took them 'everywhere' with you. This is dated from the New Year's party which you attended the day before your father's murder. 'I always carry something with me, whether it's weed or something a bit stronger. You can't party without a little something.' Did you say this?"

"Yeah. Come on, George, you never experimented a bit in law school?"

Dwight's jaw was hurting from how hard he was gritting his teeth and he felt like slamming his hands on the table. He wanted to chide Ross like he was a little boy. First he'd fucked his supporting lawyer, how he was smart assing the prosecuting lawyer. On top of that, the prints he'd sent to the lab hadn't matched and he regretted telling Ross that. Now he was becoming reckless and that was the worst thing to do in a trial like this.

"Do you use syringes to inject yourself?" asked George, looking down at his papers.

"Sometimes. I usually snort or smoke, but sometimes I inject. Gives it a different kick."

"And were you looking for a kick on January 2nd?"

"Not really. I just wanted to get a bit high, chill out a bit before I went to bed."

"You've admitted that you use syringes," said George, looking him in the eye, "a syringe of the style used by you was found at the murder scene, with residue of controlled substances that were seized from your property when you were arrested for possession. I think it's quite clear what's going on here."

"Objection!"

Demelza's voice rang through the room as she stood up angrily and the judge looked over at her.

"He's implying, Your Honour, misleading the jury is an offence."

The judge nodded and looked at George pointedly. His face soured and he turned away from Demelza as she sat down.

George began to present exhibits, the syringe and hypodermic needle that were found at the crime scene. Ross looked on, lazily playing with his watch as George showed the items to the jury. He saw Dwight and Demelza whispering and looked over to Verity and Francis, who blew him kisses and thumbs up. He winked back at them. He felt bored. He wanted to leave and get out of here because there was no way today would make a good impression of him in the jury's mind. He had made the judge laugh though, so that was a start.

George talked the jury through the exhibits, which now included Joshua Poldark's jacket and he presented toxicology reports which showed the presence of drugs in his system as well as Ross' DNA. Routine questions were asked of Ross and he responded with the truth, that he'd given his father his jacket to borrow and that his cousin and girlfriend could tell them that he was at home on that evening. Demelza presented statements from Verity and Elizabeth. She'd taken a statement from Jud in which he'd clearly stated that he hadn't seen Ross in Nampara on that night, but George presented Prudie's words as a counter-statement, saying they held more value as Prudie was the person who had served and actively interacted with Joshua on that night.

Court was adjourned until the next day and Ross walked back to sit next to Demelza. It hadn't been that bad for him today, he hadn't been cross examined that harshly. To be honest, he'd been expecting more from George Warleggan.

"Don't worry, it'll get worse tomorrow," muttered Demelza as she sifted through her papers, "tomorrow's argument will be all about the motive, that you wanted your father's inheritance. They'll probably dig out things you don't even remember saying about your dad and put them in front of you as bait, Ross."

Dwight turned to look at Demelza as they walked out of the court room. She'd never called him Ross before, not that he'd heard. Once they were out into the lobby, they were faced with a barrage of paparazzi beyond the door. Ross donned his sunglasses.

"Okay, Dwight. See you t—"

"No. I need to speak to both of you, I'm coming to Nampara too."

Demelza wanted to ask why, but before she could, Ross' cousins appeared behind her.

"Oh, God, Ross, that was terrible! I can't believe that awful man could insinuate such horrible things about you!"

Verity was the epitome of melodrama as she threw herself at Ross, hugging him tight before pulling away. Francis orchestrated the same odd handshake she'd seen in London and they began conversing. Demelza waited patiently and took the opportunity to observe Verity's clothes; she'd picked a pink lace dress and matching heels, whereas Francis had picked a check tweed suit. He kept rubbing the back of his neck and even Ross noticed.

"What's up with your neck, Francis?"

"What? Oh, I just slept on it funny. I slept in the car on the way here from London last night, still haven't recovered. Listen, after all this is over, the boys and I are having a poker night in South Ken. You'll come, won't you?"

The conversation continued in the same vein and Demelza paused, flicking her eyes over Francis' discoloured neck hidden by his collar and a tiny cut on his jaw. She breathed out carefully and took a book out of her bag, pretending to read before dropping it accidentally on purpose. Francis smiled easily and picked it up, handing it to her. She smiled and thanked him, grasping it with hands fisted in the cuffs of her dress sleeves. She set it carefully in her bag and Dwight observed the interaction, looking at her meaningfully. Demelza looked down at her phone and waited for the threesome to finish.

"Sorry about that," muttered Ross, "we're done."

He waved at his cousins as they left and walked down with Dwight and Demelza to the front door, the photographers audible from here. Demelza felt him take her hand and he walked out with her, lacing her fingers with his. She held her books close and walked where he led her, getting into the back of the police car as Dwight got into his. The questions from the reporters were the same and they went as far as to press the camera lens against the window of the car, clicking away until Demelza felt dizzy.

"What does Mr Enys want to talk to you about?" she asked as the car pulled into the driveway of Nampara.

"I don't know, guess we'll find out when he gets here," muttered Ross, getting out and making gravelly stamps to the front door like a moody toddler.

"You didn't do yourself any favours by talking back to George, you do know that, don't you?"

"I wasn't doing myself any favours anyway. At least the judge thought I was funny."

Demelza sighed and walked inside, there was no point trying to talk to him about reasonable behaviour in a court room. Sometimes she felt like Ross did know what was appropriate but just chose not to do it. As soon as she got inside, Ross loosened his tie and top button and turned around, wrapping his arms around her, his lips on hers again all of a sudden just like this morning. She smiled and kissed him back once, twice, then pulled away.

"Mr Enys will come soon, we can't, not in front of the door, he'll see."

"I need to check something first."

His lips were hot against hers as she felt her back hit the wall again and his hand slipped under her dress, running over her bare hip. He squeezed it softly and stepped back with an approving grin. She looked at him curiously and he opened the door to let Dwight in, and that was when she realised he was checking to see whether she'd picked out a new pair of underwear this morning or not. She stared at him with wide eyes and he winked back, the corner of his mouth turning up wickedly.

"Dwight, come on in. D'you want a drink?"

Ross walked to the sideboard and began pouring whisky out into crystal tumblers, but Demelza saw the anger etched onto Dwight's face. Something was wrong.

"Things will get better tomorrow, Mr Enys," she looked at him meaningfully, trying to convey that she had Francis' prints but hadn't told Ross about it yet.

"Like fuck they will."

She was surprised at the anger in his voice and Dwight tossed his bag aside, looking her squarely in the face.

"Demelza. I hired you straight out of law school with a training contract. You've been working with me for years now and you've done some exceptional things. I was on my way to making you a co-partner in the firm and I never, in a million years, expected this from you."

Demelza was stunned at the way he was speaking and even Ross turned to look in astonishment. She was confused, she had no idea what her boss was talking about. She thought she'd made a good development today.

"What do you mean? What have I done?"

Dwight scoffed and paced around the living room.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. It's not written in your textbooks that you shouldn't fuck your client, but I thought it was an unspoken rule. Basic common sense, even. Do you have any idea how unprofessional you are? You know what, this was all my fault. Why did I send you to go and live with Ross? I know what he's like, I know how he thinks, I should never have done that. Sanson asked for me to go and I should have gone to live with that idiot, not you."

Demelza felt frozen to the spot, her breath coming in short pants as she stared straight at Dwight. Ross walked over to hand him a glass with a friendly smile.

"Oh, come on, Dwight. You're nice and all but you know I don't swing that way."

Dwight looked up and slammed his hand against Ross', pushing away the glass so it fell onto the floor with a smash. Demelza whimpered and recoiled reflexively at the sound and Ross set his own glass down, walking over to quickly hold her and steady her. She gripped his hand deathly tight and Dwight stared at them.

"Oh, don't give me that lovey dovey couple bullshit! I'm not going to say anything else because I'm too fucking angry right now. You two, you had better keep this on the down low while the trial is going on. I want nothing public before the charge and sentencing, do you understand me? You can forget about being a partner or progressing anywhere, Demelza."

"No, please, Mr Enys, that's not fair, you can't do that! I've worked so hard!"

Dwight turned, his bag in one hand and his jacket in the other.

"Yes, you have. And that's why I'm sad not to make you my partner, but you should have thought twice before engaging in something like this. Is this how a defence lawyer behaves? Do you think I've ever got it on with any of my female clients? No. Because there's a line, Demelza, and you've crossed it."

Dwight walked out, slamming the door behind him and Demelza wanted to collapse onto the floor. She buried her face in her hands and tried to cry, but no tears would come out. She'd worked for years for this, she'd worked her ass off at law school, at the firm, took all the exams, revised until she couldn't see properly, and a split second had thrown her off the deep end. Ross wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, rubbing her back softly and she clung to him tight.

"How did he know? How did he…."

"He guessed in this morning in court."

Demelza closed her eyes tight, holding him so tight she thought she'd become part of him. He rocked her side to side softly, burying his face in the top of her head, whispering how everything would be okay and he would fix it. She sniffled and turned, resting her cheek against his chest, stroking the lapel of his jacket to give her something to focus on.

"You can't just fix it," she whispered sadly, closing her eyes, "you can't just throw money at it. I worked for this, Ross, I worked so hard," her voice started to crack and Ross scrunched his eyes shut, thinking back to the hearing where he'd told Dwight that Demelza deserved a promotion. Was Dwight doing this just to piss him off?

"I'll fix it, my love," Ross murmured, kissing her forehead softly, "I'll fix it, okay? Just let me try once."

She nodded and lifted her head to look at him. His voice was deep and soothing and it reverberated through her body slowly.

"What did you just call me?" she asked with a small smile, reaching up to peck his lips fondly.

"Something special. Only comes out of my mouth once in a blue moon," he winked and tugged on her hand, "come on, let's get changed and get something to eat."

"Ross! We don't have anything in the fridge!"

There was silence from upstairs and Demelza sighed, tapping her brogues on the floor in impatience. It wasn't like Ross not to respond when a lack of food was being discussed.

"Ross! Ross?! We don't have any food!"

Ross grinned and jumped down from the landing to the living room casually, walking over to her.

"Why did you take so long, what were you doing?" she asked, turning back to the fridge and rummaging through old bottles of milk and for some reason, a pack of Cadbury's Dairy Milk in the chilled section.

"Enjoying hearing you say my name," he murmured, running his hands appreciatively over her ass before wrapping his arms around her from behind. He buried his face in her neck, his hands running up her body and over a mass of fabric. He paused between 'mmmmm's and looked up, then down at her. She was dressed in an oversize white shirt tucked into a pair of denim cutoffs, her hair thrown up into a messy bun.

"Wait, is this my shirt?"

He noticed the cuffs flapping as she searched through the fridge, open where cufflinks should be.

"Yes," she responded matter of factly, "it's summer and it's hot outside. I didn't want to wear a dress because you'd probably rip my underwear again, so I picked this instead."

She rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out two boxes of cereal and a pack of biscuits.

"That's Gucci, you do know that?" he asked with a grin, perching on the table to view her. She did look good when she bent over to check on the cupboards.

"It might be Gucci, but I'm priceless."

She tried her hand at an exaggerated wink and he burst out laughing. She grinned and walked over to stand between his legs, unable to resist dipping her hands in his soft curls.

"Did you like my impression of you?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

"I did indeed."

His voice was quiet and they kissed for a few moments, just standing there. His hands rested on her waist, squeezing it softly. It was amazing how just one touch of her fingers in his hair relaxed him and he could smell the sweet, fruity scent of her hair all around him.

"We need to go grocery shopping," he said finally, playing with her fingers as his legs swung either side of her.

"What? But why can't we order a pizza?"

"Because I miss cooking, and this time, we're gonna cook together."

He took her hand and hopped off the table, grabbing his jacket and sunglasses from the couch and his keys from the little box by the door.

"We're taking the Maserati because I need to show you how to treat such a beautiful car."

Demelza rolled her eyes and grabbed her sunglasses too, following him into the car.

As soon as they'd pulled into the nearest Waitrose, Ross looked around quickly.

"Thank God there are no cameras here. I mean, I wasn't expecting them, but I do want to shop in peace."

They got out and made their way into the store, picking up necessities like milk, bread, fruit and teabags, which Ross insisted should be PG Tips. Demelza had to admit this beat her usual lonely one woman weekly shop at the little Tesco Express by the tube station, she was enjoying being asked what she thought of ready made guacamole and flavoured milk.

"I mean, I'm all for chocolate flavoured milk, but it's a bit childish," mused Ross as they pushed their trolley into the meat section. He picked up prime cuts of beef and a set of steaks, then went into a separate aisle to pick up flour.

"We're gonna make pizza tonight, so let's get all the toppings."

She grinned and followed him as he took her hand and led her around the store, picking up things like fresh prawns, vegetables and tinned tuna. She exclaimed as they walked past the cheese aisle, and spent around twenty minutes picking out different cheeses to put on their pizzas, popping samples in their mouths. Ross leaned in for a kiss and she bit his lip cheekily, grabbing the trolley and running away to fill it up with sharing packs of crisps, toffee popcorn and chocolate. Ross grinned and caught up with her, standing behind her with his hands resting on hers on the trolley handle, walking along to the till to pay and pack. Everything was going well until he stopped at the door and saw a crowd of photographers baying. He sighed and took Demelza's hand, walking across the car park quickly as they flew around the pair. They both looked down and Demelza grabbed Ross' arm quickly before they reached the car. He opened the boot of the car swiftly and the reporters started yelling as they tried to put their bags in the car.

"Ross? Ross, I'm from the Evening Standard, do you have a new girlfriend?"

"Ross, how do you think the trial's going? What happened in the court room today?"

"Are you happy that your cousins have come to support you?"

Ross slammed the boot angrily and took Demelza's hand, opening the door for her and making sure she was sat safely before getting in his side of the car. He reversed harshly, making a few of them yell out before he sped out of the car park. His mood had cleared by the time they'd arrived home and they got stuck in to pizza making. Demelza added toppings as she watched Ross clear out the old wood fired oven in the back garden. He'd taught her how to make pizza dough and the result was both of them covered in flour, almost as bad as they'd been in London, but she'd enjoyed it. Of course, Ross never took his hands off her but she wasn't complaining, she liked how he always wanted to touch her. He raised his head to wink at her from the garden and she waved back, blowing him a kiss.

They'd just placed the two pizzas in the oven outside and Ross had sent her inside to get wine and glasses for both of them when her phone vibrated and Dwight's message appeared. Her heart throbbed as she swiped to read it. It was long and detailed, but it said nothing about her.

 _I took the textbook from your bag and got the lab to run Francis Poldark's prints. It's a 95% match. We can't prove that he was also the one who tried to beat up Ross, but if we can find prints on something he touched that night, like the car, we can dust and send it to the lab for confirmation. At this point, we have evidence enough to convict Francis Poldark of murder. The only question is where he got the drugs from and my guess is he stole them from Ross when he visited his house in London. You need to discuss this with Ross._

That was the end of the message. Demelza admonished herself for thinking selfishly and stepped out onto the patio with the wine bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other, setting them down on the garden table with a clink. Ross turned to see her and smiled, walking over to stand behind her. He gestured over to the smoking wood fired oven, talking about how well their pizzas were cooking and how glad he was that he was able to get it to work, because he never though it would after so long. She didn't respond to him but smiled along idly, stroking his hands around her waist. She felt the rough denim of his jeans brush against her legs and the faint musky, masculine scent of him. No cologne, just him as he was, heavy and languid around her, making her feel safe and solid. He continued talking in his way, his voice deep and lazy at her ear and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder. He laughed at how big his shirt was for her and how it kept falling off her shoulder, but said he didn't mind because he loved feeling her skin under his lips.

She scrunched her eyes shut and tried not to tremble, holding a wooden chair tight. Ross would never accept that Francis had stolen anything from him, let alone killed his father. She didn't want to tell him, she didn't want this happiness to end. The last few days had been magical for her, it had been a time where she'd felt wanted and happy even when she was alone. Just the thought of Ross made her smile and she loved the way he treated her, the way he touched her, the way he always wanted to be around her and she didn't want to lose that. Perhaps she was being selfish, but she didn't want him to change, she just wanted her normal carefree, arrogant Ross and she wanted him all to herself. He wasn't public property, he was hers and she wanted it to stay that way. Her mind sped into fast forward, knowing how angry he'd be if he found out tomorrow in court that she'd surreptitiously obtained Francis' fingerprints and that they'd matched those found at the crime scene. The only thing that could save him from being sentenced would be the one thing that he wouldn't want to believe in and that was too much for Demelza. She had to win this case, she had to do it. Not for her career or her hard work, because those had gone down the drain already, but for Ross and most of all, for herself. She'd never had anything she could call hers, her father had made sure of that. Now she had this one thing that was perfect and beautiful and all-encompassing, this thing that made her feel light and tingly inside, she wasn't going to let go of it that easily. Ross wasn't going to prison. If he did, she didn't know how she'd be able to live.


	8. Chapter 8

The evening had progressed just how Demelza had wanted it to. They'd eaten and spent ages talking, sometimes about each other, sometimes about what their lives were like before they met each other. Demelza had baked a cake with all the new ingredients from their grocery shop and now they were indulging in Ross' favourite pastime indoors. Eating food and watching TV.

Ross grinned as he rested his head on Demelza's lap and turned to face the TV, sticking his hand in a packet of crisps. He closed his eyes for a few moments, just enjoying how she threaded his thick curls through her fingers.

"Your hair's so soft," she said quietly, smiling down at him as she scratched his scalp like he was a puppy.

"You're so soft," he said with a grin, pouting his lips for a kiss.

She reciprocated and smiled absently, slowly massaging her fingers across his scalp. His hair fell in thick locks around her fingers and she pushed it to the side, then back again, delving her fingers deep into the soft warmth. It was almost time to go to bed and the rain was persistent outside, typical summer thunderstorms. Ross' head was heavy on her lap and she moved one hand over his chest, stroking it carefully, feeling every millimetre as it rose and fell under her palm.

"Ross, I need to talk to you about the trial."

He mmm-ed his approval and nodded a little, his stubble scratching her bare thighs gently. He was still staring at the TV but Demelza knew he was listening. Her heart fell deep into her stomach with every word she said, but she couldn't let him stay in the dark for tomorrow's hearing.

"We've got another suspect."

Ross turned his head at this, looking up at her curiously.

"What? For real? Who is it?"

"You won't like it, Ross…..I don't…..I almost don't want to tell you," she faltered, biting her lip.

He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, bringing it to his lips to kiss it softly.

"Go on, tell me."

"It's…..it's Francis, Ross. Your cousin, Francis. His prints are a 95% match for those found on the syringe used to overdose your father at the murder scene."

Ross was still for a moment, his face betraying no emotion before he sat up, setting the packet of crisps on the table. This had to be a joke, this had to be something Demelza and Dwight had dreamed up to make him laugh.

"Look, honey, this isn't funny, okay?"

"I'm not trying to be funny," she whispered sadly, turning to him. Her eyes were full of tears and he could see the honesty in her face. "I'm not trying to be funny, Ross. Francis was injured today in court so I took his prints on one of my textbooks. Mr Enys took it when he came to the house and took it to the labs to cross check against the prints found on the syringe and it's a complete match. Nothing is 100% but if it's above 75%, it's a legal match. We've got enough evidence to prosecute him of murder since his fingerprints were found on the murder weapon. This development will override Prudie's statement saying that she saw you at the house before your father was found dead. We've basically cracked the case, Ross."

Her voice was stoic, just like it was in court, but during her statement Ross had stood up and began pacing up and down the living room, trying to process this new piece of information. He was still convinced it was some sort of practical joke, Francis could never even take an apple from Ross' fruit bowl without asking, they'd spent their childhoods together, they were the best of friends. They'd been through so much together, the pressures of boarding school, growing up as young men in London, dealing with the resentment their fathers held for each other. He always thought they'd been above that and kept a strong relationship even though their fathers hadn't.

"No, Demelza, you don't understand," he paused, turning to address her, "you don't get it, Francis is one of my best mates. I know our dads hated each other but me and Verity and Francis, we grew up together and we love each other as much now as we did back then. He parties with me, he stays over at my house, he's one of my most trusted friends. He's family, Demelza, he wouldn't do that to me!"

The tone of his voice wasn't desperate, he was merely trying to get her to understand what he was saying, but Demelza sat still on the sofa, watching him while the TV blared softly in the background.

"I know, Ross, I get what you're trying to say. I know you trust him and he's your friend, I've seen how close you two are, but we can't refute what the lab have come back to us with. Francis was the one holding that syringe the night your father was murdered and this is something we have to present in court."

Ross stopped and turned to her. He was angry now, he was bristling and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. All of a sudden, Demelza stepped forward and took it from him, shaking his head.

"No, you can't, you can't call Francis. It's not illegal, Ross, but it'll damage our defence if you inform Francis. The lab report's been passed onto the police and I'm sure they've arrested him on suspicion of murder."

Ross stepped back in horror, staring at her in unconcealed shock. She bit her lip and wanted to cry, she wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be okay but he wasn't a child. He was a grown man and he needed to take responsibility for himself and do what he needed to do to clear his name and stay out of prison.

"You've gotten my cousin arrested? Are you fucking serious? You've got him arrested for murder and you're gonna say that in court, that he killed my Dad? Why the fuck would he kill my Dad?! There was nothing between them, Dad always loved him and Francis always called him Uncle, there was no reason for Francis to ever hate Dad! A few fingerprints mean nothing, Demelza, just like my DNA on Dad's jacket means nothing!"

"It does, Ross!" she yelled suddenly, her entire body bursting with the force of her impatience, tears of anger and sadness falling from her eyes as she threw his phone on the sofa, squaring up to him, "it does! His fingerprints are on the murder weapon and I know you don't like it, Ross, but at some point, you'll have to face up to it! Francis killed your Dad and you know why? Because he's a greedy little shit! Your Uncle wanted to take Nampara from your Dad and he wouldn't allow it. And who do you think gets the profits from that company your Uncle runs? Ross, just like you're your father's heir, like you get all that inheritance, all of your Dad's companies, profits, bonds, savings, what the fuck do you think Francis gets?!"

She was yelling at the top of her lungs now and Ross was ready to reply, but stopped dead in his tracks and exhaled slowly. Memories of Francis were running through his head like a film on repeat and it was stupidly obvious now, all those things Francis had ever said to him about taking a bigger share in his father's businesses, trying his own hand at making profits and the 'hard nosed' approach to business, how professional men should be hard and apathetic about dealings. Ross looked up at her and she was wiping her face, recovering from her outburst. She stepped forward and began to speak again, more measured this time.

"I don't know exactly why he did what he did but we'll be able to cross examine him tomorrow in court and ask him why. I'm sorry, Ross. I know it hurts to find out that someone you love did something like this. But we need to present this as evidence in court tomorrow, at I'm sure the judge already knows that Francis is now a suspect. This is your only chance at clearing your name and thank God we found it, otherwise things wouldn't have looked good for you. George would have hammered the inheritance motive home until the entire jury was convinced...and I know you don't want me to talk about Francis tomorrow, but I have to. You can't go to prison for something you haven't done, Ross, you can't. I won't let you. I won't let you go away from me, I'll do everything I can to keep you with me forever."

Her voice was barely a whisper and she was close to him now, so close that he could smell the light, sweet scent of her hair and the smell of himself all over her. She was crying, her cheeks glistening with tears, but there was white noise around his ears now. Disbelief was the only thing he could process, his mind wasn't capable of thinking anymore.

"This….this isn't about you, Demelza!" he spat bitterly, stepping back to view her, "for God's sake, this isn't about you and what you want! You've destroyed the only family I've had left and you think everything's okay because now you'll get me all to yourself?! Keep me from prison just to imprison me with you? That's twisted, Demelza, that's sick!"

"No! No, that's not what I meant!" she said desperately, moving forward to clutch at his shirt but he pulled away. Her heart was too loud in her ears now and her chest hurt from the force of it.

"I don't know what you meant, but I'm not yours to keep, Demelza! You can't shackle me to you like that! I know you're doing your job, but at least have the decency to discuss things with me before doing them! Even I know that's what lawyers do with their clients! We have a thing, Demelza, I know. We have….something between us but that doesn't mean that I'm suddenly yours and you're mine, that's not how the real world works, okay? I hate to break it to you, but real life is more complex than this. You can't choose how things play out just because you want to keep me all to yourself. I fucking snort cocaine, get shitfaced and get into fights, that's my idea of a good time and I love my life, you're a lawyer, you work hard, you dress smart, you're articulate, you've got degrees out your ass, this isn't…." he gestured between them, "this, this isn't a good mix, this isn't working."

Demelza was shaking her head urgently now, he'd gotten the wrong end of the stick, she couldn't believe what he was saying. She hadn't wanted to hold him to her. Or had she? That was exactly what she'd been thinking earlier in the afternoon in the garden, while Ross had been making inane conversation with her. She admitted to herself that she had thought selfishly, she did want to keep Ross all to herself, but it was also true that he hadn't killed his father. His wild motions and sharp movements while he'd been shouting at her matched the same she'd made when she'd been yelling at him. He wasn't prepared to listen. He wiped his face clean of sweat and look at her, his eyes flaming with disbelief, anger and a thousand other emotions he couldn't place.

"Do you think I've ever belonged to anyone, Demelza? Do I look like the kind of guy you can keep to yourself? You've fucked me over, you and Dwight, and you expect me to lie down with you, watch TV with you, fuck you in my bed? This, Nampara, Cornwall, it's not a little bubble. The real world is right outside, Demelza, and it's not as simple as me and you. You don't own me and nothing you do can make that happen. I'm not made for that and you knew it from the moment you read about me in your little file."

With that, he turned and grabbed his jacket, picking up the discarded car keys on the table. She was faintly aware of the door slamming and Ross' footsteps outside on the gravel. A car door opened, then closed. An engine started up and she heard the revs increase, the tyres crushing the gravel savagely. She sunk onto the sofa and closed her eyes, tears spilling down over her cheeks as she curled up quietly, looking but not seeing the TV at the far end of the room. This was exactly what she'd been scared of and it had played out just like she'd imagined.

It had been odd getting ready for court in the morning without Ross and even stranger when she walked in and sat down without him next to her. She'd been faced with the same barrage of ever-present photographers outside the court, which she had to admit she'd become good at evading. She was a little early and the room was buzzing with reporters and jury members. Demelza set her files in front of her and began sorting her papers, turning to start chatting with Dwight about how to approach revealing the new evidence, but even he was staring at her.

"Where's Ross? Why didn't he arrive with you?" asked Dwight suspiciously, fixing his white wig.

"We had a bit of a disagreement last night when I told him about Francis," she said honestly, "he got angry and left and didn't come home. I've tried calling him but he hasn't answered."

She turned back to her papers and began flicking through them unnecessarily, biting her lip hard to stop herself from crying again, she'd had quite enough of that. Dwight sighed and dialled Ross' number, holding his phone up to his ear as he muttered.

"To be honest, I'm surprised Ross even made the first few hearings on time, I was expecting him to go AWOL but now that we've cracked something so big, it'd be good to have him actually attend his own trial."

"No need to call, I'm here."

They both turned to see Ross walking down the aisle between seats. His tie was pin straight and his face was expressionless as he sat down next to Demelza and stared straight ahead.

"Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence," said Dwight, sighing as he looked through his papers.

"Where were you? What were you doing last night, Ross?" whispered Demelza angrily.

Ross moved his eyes around the court room, watching the jury take their seats.

"I was at a bar, doing some rather unsavoury things."

Demelza buried her face in her hands and muttered through them.

"What do you mean, unsavoury? Did you smoke something?"

"I'm high as fuck right now. Also, Elizabeth is here. Final trial date and all, she thought she'd come and support me."

Ross' voice was a different octave from normal and she could tell with one look that the effects of whatever he'd taken the night before were only just starting to wear off. Verity took her seat behind Ross as usual, but she wasn't happy today. Her face was set in a permanent frown and Demelza felt Elizabeth sit down behind her.

"Don't worry, baby, nothing's going to happen to you," came her high pitched voice and she reached over to kiss Ross. Demelza froze and tried to look elsewhere as Ross turned back to kiss Elizabeth too. She knew he was only doing it to antagonise her and she wasn't going to fall for such a childish ploy. He'd been right the night before, the real world was complex and nothing was as easy as it sounded in her head. She knew that her relationship with Ross meant that he was cheating on Elizabeth, and she wasn't the kind of girl to advocate that. It was Ross' weakness, Ross' fault that he hadn't ended it with Elizabeth sooner. He obviously hated her and her mother and had admitted in London that he was just too lazy to dump her.

"Nothing will happen to Francis, right, Ross?"

Verity's worried tone cut through her thoughts and Ross turned to look at Verity. He grasped her hand tight and forced a smile.

"Nothing will happen to him, Vee. I don't know what's going on but I guess we'll find out."

Demelza spotted Charles Poldark taking his seat next to George Warleggan. His face was red and angry and he looked like he was about to burst, which was a sickly look on a man as large and unwieldy as him. George and Dwight made their opening statements and George called for yesterday's exhibits to be brought in. The entire court room watched as Joshua Poldark's jacket was brought in and the toxicology report was presented to the judge again, alongside Prudie's witness statement.

Cross examination of Ross began and as expected, George began to discuss Ross' lavish lifestyle and lack of funding. Dwight presented Verity and Elizabeth's statements to the judge, alongside Ross' financial documentation to prove that he had quite enough money by himself. They'd been anticipating George's inheritance angle and were ready for it.

"Your Honour, we'd like to call the second suspect to the stand, please."

The judge gave his assent and the door to Ross' left opened. The same door he'd come through during his plea hearing and everyone had looked at him like he was a criminal. Francis appeared, his hands cuffed behind his back, dressed in a plaid tweed suit, a tortured expression on his face as he was led to the dock in front of Ross. Ross' fists clenched and he looked up at his cousin, willing him to look his way with no luck. Francis stared across the court room at his father and George, and Ross felt Verity's hand squeeze his shoulder hard.

The cross examination was Demelza's job and she didn't want to do it, she didn't want Ross to hate her more than he did right now. She stood up and dusted her dress off, walking in front of the stand to address George with her papers. It was the first time she'd seen him since getting in that car with him in London where he'd been introduced as nothing more than Ross' cousin, she'd never anticipated that he'd become their prime suspect in the case she was working on. She took a minute to steady her voice and looked up at him after he'd confirmed his name.

"Mr Poldark, where were you on the evening of January 2nd 2016?"

"At home."

His voice was harsh and rough, but trembling. He took the option to sit down behind the balcony.

"Do you have anyone who can corroborate this?"

Francis was silent for a while before he replied.

"No."

"You and your cousin have been friends since you were children. My client says that you used to visit his house, Nampara, a lot when you were younger. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

The questions continued in the same vein for a while, with Demelza laying the necessary foundations for the big reveal. When the court was faced with the lab report, the jury looked visibly shocked and Ross tried to catch Francis' eye again, to tell him that all this was a lie, but he never seemed to look Ross' way. Verity was about to cry and even Elizabeth felt tense. Dwight was watching every movement carefully and it had been a good hour of cross examination before Demelza got to the crux of the matter.

"Mr Poldark, your father's will, in its current form, states that all profits of his Cornwall-based property renovation company would go to you after his death. You have significant shares in the aforementioned company and have been noted as present during its board meetings, as well as conducting deals by yourself," Demelza raised a hand to allow the judge to look over the documents she had given to the court hands and the judge nodded, allowing her to proceed, "a large renovation project was scheduled to commence on January 2nd not far from here and your father had sent you to oversee it. Your car's GPS tracker shows that you were in Cornwall on January 2nd."

"That doesn't mean I was at Nampara!" burst out Francis quickly.

"But the fingerprints on the syringe do, Mr Poldark. As to how you gained access to the drugs used to overdose Joshua Poldark, here we have a statement from Jim Carter, Ross Poldark's housekeeper in London, who stated that his employer's itinerary of controlled substances was noticeably depleted before Christmas, though his employer had not used any, something he found strange. This coincided with a dinner party Ross Poldark held at his home on December 19th 2015, during which the company, namely Verity Poldark, Zachary Martin and Mark Daniel, used said drugs, which would have given you, Mr Poldark, ample time to retrieve enough drugs to overdose Joshua Poldark with."

George was too shocked to stand up for an objection and Demelza carried on quickly. Francis was flustering behind the dock and whatever he wanted to say, it was going to happen soon.

"You've been known for your aggressive business tactics and your father, Charles Poldark was known in Cornwall for his rivalry with his brother, the murder victim, Joshua Poldark. As his nephew, you would have been able to gain easy access to Nampara and being of the same height and build as my client, may easily have fooled Prudie, in a shadowy corner, into believing that she was seeing Ross Poldark visiting his father. I posit that having illegally obtained Class A drugs from the home of my client, you travelled to Cornwall on the pretense of overseeing a renovation project in order to murder Joshua Poldark for financial gain."

Francis was silent and he locked eyes with her for the first time during the trial. She stared at him steadily, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"Do you admit to the murder of Joshua Poldark?"

"Yes."

Both Dwight and Demelza expected a dramatic reaction from Ross, but it didn't come. She knew it would be unprofessional to look over at Ross, so she kept her eyes on Francis, who was now crying. The sound of his sobs filled the entire court room and Demelza was angry and hateful, but couldn't help recoiling at the woeful and obviously distraught man in front of her. The excuses began and Charles was speaking over his son. She didn't need to turn around to know that Charles and George had gotten up from their seats and were trying to appeal to the judge, who was furiously banging his gavel to quell the noise from the reporters up on the balcony. Francis kept muttering 'I didn't mean to,' and 'Dad said it would be the best thing,' but the one phrase that echoed in Ross' mind was 'I didn't want to.'

"I didn't want to, I didn't want to, I didn't want to," repeated Francis over and over again as if he'd gone insane.

"Then why did you?"

Ross' voice was barely audible and both Demelza and Francis turned to look at him. He was sitting still in his seat, his face poker straight, totally emotionless apart from the redness of his eyes.

"Why did you do it, Francis? Wasn't he your uncle? Wasn't I your friend? You….you killed my Dad, Francis. You….you killed him on purpose, just so…..you never had to….if you wanted money, you could have asked me, you didn't…"

Ross' face turned away as abruptly as he'd started addressing his cousin. Everything else was a blur around him, Verity's sobs behind him, Elizabeth's reassuring squeezes on his hand, Dwight's muttering with court lackeys.

"Francis Poldark, you are pronounced guilty for murder of Joshua Poldark, to be contained in police custody until the sentencing date."

The gavel banged again, pulling Ross out of his thoughts to watch Francis being pulled down from the dock, struggling desperately against his cuffs, calling Ross' name. Ross turned to Dwight.

"That's it, then? I'm free to go?"

"You are. The police need to take your ankle tag off since you're no longer a suspect, but after that, you're free to go."

Dwight was happy that they'd won the case and Ross had cleared his name, but it was obvious that his cousin's betrayal wasn't easy for him to face up to and he decided to sit in the court room with him until everyone had filed out. Verity had been asked to be taken to see her brother and Elizabeth was waiting outside in the lobby.

"There'll be cameras outside," said Dwight absently, closing his leather binder, "you need to be prepared for questions."

"When have I ever been prepared for anything, Dwight?" muttered Ross tiredly, leaning back in his seat to stare up at the ceiling of the court room.

"I know that this is going to be hard for you to process but on my behalf, I've done my job and as your friend, I'm glad that you're not in prison."

Ross said nothing and got up, fixing his suit jacket before walking out of the courtroom. Demelza hadn't even arrived at the defence table before she saw Ross walking away and instantly became worried. Her hands were clammy as she quickly picked up her belongings and followed him out into the lobby to see him sharing an emotional hug with Verity, who was too distraught to face anyone. Demelza sadly watched her being led to the back door and Ross turned to face her, his eyes strangely quiet. They'd lost their usual sparkle and there was no hint of rebellion or carelessness in his posture. He looked her over once, twice.

"Well, it's done. Shall we go back to London now?"

She nodded and fixed her bag on her shoulder, getting ready to walk out with him. She and Dwight had prepared no statement on Ross' behalf at his own insistence. The questions started up again for what felt like the thirtieth time, but there were more reporters this time, more flashes and more screaming than she'd ever seen.

"Ross Poldark, what do you have to say about being acquitted for your father's murder?"

"Ross, how did it feel to know that Francis killed your father? Where's Elizabeth? Do you have a new girlfriend?"

"Ross, did you ever exp—"

"My father was an intelligent, supportive and wonderful man with many dreams for me and his family. He was my only family after my mother died and he gave me everything I ever wanted. I'll miss him and I'm glad this chapter of my life is closed now. I'd advise you all to move on too."

With that, Ross grabbed Demelza's hand and sat in the car as it sped off. He didn't look at her for the whole ride back to Nampara and she had planned on talking to him when they got there, but Dwight was already waiting for them. Ross stepped out curiously and walked over to Dwight, who threw something in his face. He caught it deftly and Demelza could see the same anger as yesterday burning in his eyes. Ross looked down at what appeared to be a newspaper in his hand.

"Hot off the press, straight from London," exclaimed Dwight, gesturing towards the paper, "you two just don't listen, do you?! We have an appeal to get through, we still haven't had the sentencing and this is your idea of fun, is it?!"

Demelza looked over Ross' shoulder to see this morning's Metro and splashed on the front cover was a huge picture of Ross and Demelza, holding hands and walking across a car park with a trolley full of groceries. She saw the words cheating and girlfriend here and there on the page, but she couldn't register much. It felt like Dwight had more to say but she didn't care, she'd had enough to last her a lifetime and promptly ran inside and upstairs to her bedroom. She knew she was acting like a teenager, but she didn't care, she just wanted to be alone. There was half an expectation that Ross would come knocking on her door, but hours passed and no one came.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been hours since Demelza had sequestered herself in her bedroom and no one had come to find her, not even Jud. Faint voices were heard and people seemed to come and go downstairs in the living room, but she didn't have the energy to go to the window and find out who it was. It had been nice to be alone with her thoughts for a while, she'd been able to file and categorise them like she did with papers in court.

At first she'd thought it was his fault, that he was making the situation more complicated than it had to be by marking out so many differences between them. Opposites attract after all, right? But it wasn't as straightforward as that, thought Demelza, closing her eyes as she dragged her leg up slowly to form a pyramid on the bed with it. She picked at the bow of her dress and sighed. There was a bigger picture she hadn't appreciated, which Ross certainly did. As much as she wanted to think that he wasn't public property, he was.. Ross was a certain kind of guy, the kind of guy who sold papers, the kind of guy who generates news stories, the kind of guy who lights up a camera and who's trained in the art of bullshitting and talking a lot, but not really saying much.

She was a lawyer, everything in her world was backed up by proof and evidence and in her mind, the time she'd spent with Ross and his actions were evidence enough that he liked her. She chastised herself as she breathed in and out slowly, looking up at the moulding wooden beams on the roof; Dwight and Jinny had too often said that her work had become her life. Probably because she had no life, she lived alone with few friends and never visited the only family she had and she admitted that she'd become insular quite a while ago, but again, that wasn't her fault. Her father had pushed her away with his temper and drinking and she had no choice but to work 24/7.

Perhaps that was part of why she felt so special when Ross had shown interest in her. She didn't want to admit that she was that cheap or desperate, she had been with boyfriends before but no one had made her feel quite like Ross. He'd exposed her to a culture, an atmosphere that she'd only ever heard about and he'd never made out that he was better than her simply because he was rich. There was unpredictability and volatility with him, yes, but also an element of safeness about him, of solidity and reality, which contradicted directly with the silly fantasy she seemed to be living. As if he'd be acquitted and everything would flow easily from there, they'd live happily ever after. No Disney shit was going down here. Dwight was angry with her. Ross was angry with her. Everyone in her immediate vicinity was angry with her. She pulled out her phone.

 _Hi, Jinny._

She waited for a speech bubble to pop up, but none appeared and she set her phone down next to her. Maybe Dwight had already called and told her friend about what had happened. Maybe Jinny hated her too.

 _Are you okay?_

Demelza sighed in relief as she saw Jinny's text and replied back quickly.

 _I don't know. I have no idea what's going on with me. Or with Ross. He hasn't talked to me much since we argued last night even though Francis admitted to murder. I don't want to say I told you so but I don't know how else to start the discussion._

 _Do you think it's wise for you to start the discussion? I love you, DeeDee, but this doesn't just affect you. His whole life is a shit storm right now. All eyes are on him and people will jump on a new drama, whatever it is. And what better drama than Ross dumping his perfect, fashion model, socialite girlfriend for his lawyer?_

 _You don't make me sound very appealing._

 _I'm not saying you're not appealing but you're not Elizabeth Chynoweth, you don't have that star power paparazzi wants. People will be all up in Ross' face if he starts this new drama. They'll love him whatever happens, I mean they loved him when they thought he'd OD'ed his own dad. But are you really suited to his lifestyle?_

 _Why wouldn't I be?_

There was a silence from Jinny's end before the speech bubble came alive.

 _I don't need to tell you why you wouldn't be. He's not like you. He doesn't think like you, he didn't grow up like you, he has hardly anything in common with you. You've had a good time, that's great, but you need to come home now, wake up a little bit. You're wonderful and I love you and you can have an amazing, handsome bf but that's not Ross. He needs a girl who can dress up, go to parties, work the red carpet and involve herself in the way he lives. Someone who lives and breathes society and knows how to act._

 _Which I don't._

That was the last text Demelza sent before she locked her phone and sighed, scrunching her eyes shut. She couldn't relegate to the sidelines any of what Jinny had said, it was logical and she knew her friend had the best intentions for her, but she didn't want to hear that right now. She wasn't made to be with someone like Ross and she certainly knew she'd never seen her future with someone like him. She'd never met anyone like him, let alone thought about dating. Ross was an unexpected development, a plot twist in her life that she'd never seen coming. And she liked that.

Her back was numb from lying there for so long and she got up, looking out of the window. It was raining outside and she suddenly felt like time had stopped for a split second. She didn't quite know why, but her phone told her it was afternoon and it would be dark by the time they got to London. She set her packed bags by the door, opening it to check if people were still downstairs. She heard nothing and pulled the door open fully, poking her head out almost comically. Her room was clear apart from the dress that sat on her bed which she had intended to wear on the journey back home and she sighed, turning around to reach behind her and slip off her black court room dress, her back aching as she swept her hair to one side to find the zip.

Unbeknownst to her, Ross stood just outside, watching her change her clothes. She was matter of fact about it, folding up the black dress before slipping into a pretty red floral one, shoving her feet into red ballerina flats. He ran his eyes over her milky white skin, adoring the way her molten red hair clashed with the petal-white of her skin. A smile played at his lips as he watched her observe herself in the mirror awkwardly, smoothing out the dress over her thighs. She whipped her fiery curls into submission with an elastic band, tying them up in the same messy bun he'd loved when they'd cooked together in the kitchen downstairs. He always said he loved her hair down but when it was tied up like that, so effortless and untidy with thick coils of sunset red falling over face, tickling her neck like the deep twilight meeting the horizon, he almost preferred it.

By the time she'd made it downstairs, she couldn't find Ross. He wasn't instantly visible until she spied a plume of smoke rising slowly from a couch and turned around to see Ross splayed on it tiredly, his fingers nursing a cigarette which he lazily brought to his lips every now and then, tipping his head back on the cushion to exhale slowly, purposefully. He, too, had changed out of his court suit and was back in his uniform of black jeans and a black shirt, his black boots kicked up onto the end of the couch. He looked like he was going to a funeral but she regretted the thought as soon as it popped into her mind.

"Ready to go?"

She nodded and he got up slowly, walking upstairs to bring her bags down and set them next to his by the door. She stood uneasily in the living room, waiting for the car to arrive. They said their goodbyes to Jud who wished them both well and Ross insisted he come to visit in London soon. Ross stared out of the window and Demelza fidgeted with her fingers on her lap. She was unsure of what to say, she didn't want to mention the trial because that would anger him further, but any other conversation she would make would be about them and she couldn't pretend that everything was okay. Waiting for him to speak was hell itself and he seemed more than comfortable to stay quiet.

Verity joined them and took her seat in the helicopter. She made small talk and Ross replied, but stared out of the window absently again, like he didn't want to be present. Demelza did the same, but only to hide her trembling bottom lip and burning eyes as she remembered how pleasant the ride to Cornwall had been, how Ross had reached over to hold her hand, to tell her he was glad that she was his lawyer. He had admitted to her that he was scared and she had told him that she would do everything she could to make sure they won. What had changed since then?

"We have a few hours left," came Ross' rumbling voice, "you two should get some rest."

Verity agreed and promptly leaned against her seat to fall asleep. Demelza continued staring out of the window aimlessly, almost unaware that they were approaching ground. The lush green fields were visible underneath but she didn't really see them. Her mind wandered as they sat in the car, with Ross and the pilot transferring the luggage from plane to car. Verity paused as she looked over at Demelza in the seat next to her, frowning as she reached out to touch her hand.

"Demelza? Are you alright?"

The feeling of someone else touching her caused Demelza to jump in surprise and she gathered herself, turning to face Verity with a forced smile.

"Of course. Why?"

"You've just been very quiet for the whole journey," said Verity, looking down at her bag on her lap, "is anything the matter?"

"No, of course not….I just didn't know what to say," replied Demelza honestly, looking down at her own lap.

Verity smiled sourly and looked out of the window at the helipad, crossing her legs elegantly.

"He's a difficult man at the best of times. He never listens to anyone."

Demelza opened her mouth to reply, but wondered whether she was talking about Francis or someone else.

"I've only ever seen him listen to you."

A wash of realisation blew over Demelza as she turned her head to stare at Verity, who was still looking out of the window.

"What? Who do you mean?"

"Ross, of course," she murmured lazily, looking back at Demelza while she stretched a little, "he's difficult, he doesn't take well to being tamed."

Before she could reply, Ross sat in the driver's seat and sped off at a speed which made Demelza instantly sick.

"I'll drop you off home, Vee," he said shortly as they made their way into London.

Night in London had always felt like a special time to Demelza and she rather enjoyed the ride, despite her confused mental state. The street lights twinkled and the air was cold, odd for a summer night. London had a different vibe to Cornwall, to anywhere else in the UK and she loved calling it home. She wound the window down to breathe in the smoggy, polluted air and heard the familiar, rickety whine of an old tube train close by as they passed Hammersmith. Ross' breakneck speed meant that they were in South Kensington in no time and the car abruptly stopped outside a tall, white house cordoned off by spiky black railings. Verity and Ross got out and Demelza turned away from their private goodbye, acutely aware that she was the reason why Verity's brother was in prison. She wasn't much looking forward to having to sit in the car with Ross while he dropped her off home either.

"Wait, you're going the wrong way," she exclaimed, sitting forward to look around, "I live in Harrow, we're going in the opposite direction."

"I'm not taking you to Harrow. Your shit is still in my house, remember? Besides, I'm having a poker night at mine so I can't drive you anywhere. You take a taxi, or you wait till tomorrow."

His voice was matter of fact as he stared straight ahead, navigating the roads with ease. The harsh yellow of the street lights reflected glassily in his eyes and his eyebrows were set in a hard line, his jaw firm and stiff. Her eyes ran over his posture, how he was leaning back with one hand on the steering wheel, the light dusting of hair on his arm visible every time it appeared out of the shade. The strange, gnawing feeling in her stomach hadn't disappeared and she was feeling tired after the long journey. She knew she'd been static for most of the day but she wanted to sleep.

No response came from her as she dutifully decanted out of the car and into the house, taking her usual seat in the kitchen with all her papers as Ross brought in their luggage. The house was strangely cold and dark, and it didn't improve when Ross switched the lights on. The white, clean kitchen which Demelza had once thought modern and minimalist seemed cold and hollow now, even though she remembered how wonderful it had been to watch Ross cooking in it. How much had changed since they'd been in this house last, and only over a few days.

The usual rush and noise of London was dampened down during the night and Demelza barely heard a thing outside as Ross set up the living room for his poker night, walking up and down steps to find drinks and supplies. After he'd assembled all he'd need, he grabbed his suitcase and pulled out the necessary equipment for their other planned recreational activities that night while Demelza opened her files tiredly, running over the new notes Dwight had given her about the sentencing date and appeals. Her eyes were looking but again, not really seeing the words as they swam around wildly on the page until she heard a soft stomp of Ross' boots behind her. A quick check of her phone showed her that it was half past midnight and no friends were to be seen.

"Have they all forsaken you?" she asked, trying her hand at forced humour as she turned around.

Ross snorted as he took a sip of his whisky directly from the bottle, leaning against the doorframe to observe her. One hand was in his pocket while the other held the bottle and his stare was warm, but piercing. It gave her a strange feeling inside, as if she wasn't quite sure what was about to happen. He'd changed his appearance slightly, with a black denim shirt tied around his waist carelessly.

"They haven't forsaken me. I called the poker night off, I didn't feel like it."

His tone was the same lazy lilt she was used to, not the cold baritone she'd heard in the helicopter earlier. He was eyeing her over, up and down slowly and just his gaze made her shiver. His clothes were rumpled as he walked over slowly and leaned against the island, looking at her the same way.

"I was wrong to yell at you like that. You were trying to help me."

She wasn't quite prepared for an apology and subsequently didn't know what to say. It was suddenly colder than usual in the kitchen and her shoes made sandy scraping sounds on the tiled floor as she moved to face him, her hands fidgeting awkwardly in her lap. She twisted the red fabric of her dress around nervously. Ross was amused by this. She'd lost all of the confidence and assertiveness he'd seen this morning in court when she'd stood fiercely in front of Francis in all her legal garb. Her face was turned downwards now, she was staring at his boots as if she'd find something there. A breeze swept in and lifted the ends of her runaway curls, making them dance merrily against her cheek.

"Demelza, look at me. There's nothing for you to see down there, look at me."

She forced herself to look up, meeting his eyes reluctantly; the eyes she wanted to hide from because she knew every time she saw them, something different began to spark inside her and she didn't know how to face it. He watched her bite her rosy lips in anxiety and continued with his speech, pulling a single cigarette out of his pocket.

"I said some stupid, incredibly idiotic things that I shouldn't have said. I was angry and I know that's not an excuse. I know I upset you and I was a huge, A class, gold standard arsehole. I'd lie if I say I'm okay with what happened today in court. I'm not."

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it at her, forcing her to let go of her dress to catch it. He held the cigarette in his lips and raised his eyebrows, motioning for her to come over and light him. Her legs felt unsteady as she got up and bridged the short gap between them, flicking the lighter a few times to check if it worked before holding it to the cigarette. The gravitational pull of his eyes was too much and she felt like it would be better just to concede, so she flicked her eyes up from the flame to his own. He blinked at her once, twice before inhaling deeply. She sat back down, setting the lighter on the table with a clink, looking back up at him as he exhaled slowly, the plume of smoke rising up towards the ceiling eerily in the dark.

"I don't like what happened today but it happened. It's the truth, it's justice and I can't argue with it. I do feel betrayed, but I've seen enough shit to believe it. And I've accepted it, I've moved on, I'm stable. Strangely, more stable than I think I've ever felt before."

"Closure can do that to you," she murmured quietly, slightly surprised by the maturity of his apology.

She'd always had him down as someone who would never apologise for anything even when he knew he'd done something wrong. She'd never seen him say sorry to anyone before.

"You weren't expecting that."

His voice was almost an extension of her thoughts and her eyes met his again. His stare was comforting now, almost soothing. She felt it wash over her skin slowly and she liked the way it felt.

"No, I wasn't…but thank you."

"I should thank you, you're the one who cleared my name and did everything you could to help me. I just didn't appreciate it."

"No, you didn't. And you smart assed George, which probably wasn't the best thing to do. All you've done is make my job harder," she said airily, getting up to make her way over to the cupboards. Ross stared at her in shock. He'd apologised, wasn't that enough?

"What? So I shouldn't have talked back to George, are you serious? Did you see how the fucker was looking at me in court, like I was a goddamn freak show or something?"

Demelza turned and raised her eyebrows at Ross' indignant tone.

"Whatever he was looking at you like, you should have kept a steady head. But then again, you're not prone to doing that, are you? You like your emotional, dramatic outbursts. Just have to be the centre of attention all the time," said Demelza, turning around to look in the fridge with a grin. She so loved antagonising Ross.

She could physically feel heat radiate from him as he walked over to accost her, his feet stamping moodily on the tiles. She turned from the fridge, closing the door with a dramatic sigh and faced him.

"What, now you're angry with me? Just because I said you're a self centered, arrogant little—"

"You know what, fuck you!"

"Fuck you too! You're too up yourself to—"

Her words were cut off by the abrupt feeling of Ross' mouth on hers and his body pressing her back into the fridge, his kiss deep and rough, almost savage in its bruising of her soft lips. Their breath came in pants as Ross pressed himself against her tight, taking kisses from her like her lips were oxygen and he was desperate to breathe. When they finally pulled away, Demelza stared up at him in barely concealed shock, still gasping for air as she leaned back against the fridge, swallowing and closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself. His hand was still on her lower back and he lifted his cigarette to his lips with his other hand, inhaling deeply. She was vaguely aware that he would have to breathe out the smoke somewhere and he opened his mouth to exhale. The smoke drifted out languidly and she watched in surprise as it flew upwards into his nose. He closed his eyes as if was enjoying the feeling.

"How did you….do that?" she asked, astounded as she leaned her head back against the fridge.

He smirked a little and took another drag, exhaling and allowing the smoke to linger for a few moments longer, slowly inhaling it through his nose again.

"It's called a French Inhale," he said, running his hand slowly down over her hip and back up again, "it burns your throat, but I like it."

"Can you teach me how to do it?" she asked cheekily, leaning in for another kiss, but he pressed his lips against hers, pausing to whisper against them something which made her shiver so violently she was unable to speak.

"I can teach you how to do a lot of things, Demelza. In fact, I think you need a few lessons."

She gripped his shirt tight, her breath leaving her body as she looked up at him, unsure of what to say. His gaze was unashamedly carnal now, running over her slowly, deliberately. He bit his own lip, running his tongue over it like he always did – a surefire way to make her feel those odd tingles inside. Without a word, he took her hand, stubbed his cigarette out on the island and walked upstairs with her, opening the door to his bedroom. He stripped his jacket off as she looked around, smiling at how warm the room seemed to be with the fire crackling busily and his dark purple satin sheets seeming more inviting somehow. The burnished wooden floor reflected the sunny yellow flames to bask the whole room in a warm, golden glow which was a welcome change from the cold, almost clinical dark of the kitchen downstairs.

She felt Ross' presence behind her, watching her take in his bedroom. She seemed happy now, like she'd forgotten much of what happened between them at Nampara. He'd apologised in the kitchen, but there was a lot that had been left unsaid about the things Ross had said about the two of them, and he was glad that she hadn't brought it up.

"I did say it was invitation only," he said with his usual grin, walking around her to warm his hands by the fire where Demelza joined him.

"How common is this invitation?" she ventured, sticking her hands out to feel the warmth of the flames against her numb skin too. His laugh was a short bark.

"Well, Jim's been in here, so in that respect, quite common."

She wanted to laugh, but a small smile was all she could manage. She was too preoccupied with what she knew was going to happen and especially with the conversation she'd just had with Ross downstairs. She did need to learn a few things, she wasn't the most experienced of people and evidently wasn't very good at being a professional, effortlessly sexy woman who guys wanted to be with, which seemed to be Ross' default if Elizabeth was anything to go by. Ross seemed to read her mind and turned to her, pulling her close to him by her hips.

"Our first time was a bit….rushed, shall we say. How about we take it a little slower this time?"

She nodded nervously, running her hands up his forearms to grip his biceps. He looked her over, a mischevious grin tickling his lips as he continued.

"I was serious about what I said downstairs. It's time I taught you a few things and something like that can't be rushed. What do you say?"

She nodded again, breathing out slowly as Ross observed her acutely, making sure she was okay before he pulled her closer. As soon as she melted into his kiss, the anxiety melted away too and all that mattered was how soft and warm his lips were on hers. The surrender was tangible, Ross felt her sink into him immediately, pressing against him like he was the only thing left in the world to hold on to. The kiss was different this time, it wasn't crushing or savage, but deep and almost possessive. He ran his hands over her fully this time, unhindered by a cigarette and his touch electrified her. A trail of fire burned wherever his hands moved and she knew what he meant by this, he was making it clear that she was his, at least for tonight.

Her feet lifted off the floor as Ross picked her up, holding her around his hips as he carried her to the bed, leaning over to lay her down, never once moving his lips from hers. They tasted too good, too sweet to forsake for even once second. The thought of breaking away to pull his shirt off was too much, but the sound of her panting was equally delightful to him and he could feel her rocking her hips upwards into his, her fingernails running sharply down the back of his neck as he spread her legs open to settle between them comfortably. The trail of tingling flames ran slowly down her neck as Ross replaced her lips with her skin, placing slow, purposeful kisses all over her neck until strangled moans escaped from her lips. He reached above to tug on the hair band he'd seen her use so deftly this morning, tossing it aside she shook her curls free. The fiery red streaks fell over her milky white skin in the way he loved so much, making her body look more inviting and perfect than he'd ever seen it, like an unfinished piece of art. A hand easily tugged at the bow of her dress, watching as it fell apart in one swift movement, exposing more of her warm, creamy skin.

Her breath felt like it was coming too fast as Ross' gaze ran appreciatively over her and she felt it this time, moving over her body hungrily like his hands would and there was nowhere to hide now. He reached up to pull his own shirt off by the neck, tossing it aside dismissively without breaking eye contact, falling forward to brace himself either side of her head. The pendants on his chain fell heavily between her breasts, making her shudder at such a simple contact.

"I know I'm here to teach you, but I can't do that without the necessary resources," he said, as if he was really her professor, but the corners of his mouth turned up slyly, "and for that, I need you to cooperate. It's a two way process."

Her brain swam in confusion and she could make no sense of what he was saying until she felt his lips at her ear, whispering in the deep, low, husky voice he had before, sending throbbing warmth flushing through her.

"Let me teach you how to be good for me."

An undisguised moan left her lips at that, her entire body responding as it curved upwards instinctively, meeting his. He growled a little at the contact of her soft skin against his, her nipples brushing lightly against the smattering of hair on his chest. He liked her response, running his hand slowly down the side of her body as he felt her arch up into him. The silk of her skin slipped under his hands until she felt his fingers between her legs and settled for kissing him until the warmth that flooded her body overpowered her voice. He dipped in and out of her teasingly, making her roll her hips up and down to search for his fingers, whining keenly when she didn't find them.

"No, Ross, you can't do that," she whispered with a frown, reaching down to guide his fingers back inside her, but he stopped, pulling her hand away to rest at her side.

"Rule number one," he said in the same low baritone, his eyes sparkling, "I decide when to give you what you want."

She gritted her teeth in frustration at the sly look on Ross' face, tossing her head back as she tried desperately to move her hips closer to his hand. He took the opportunity to taste her neck again, caressing it slowly with his tongue until she moaned quietly, her hands winding into his hair. Taking advantage of her temporarily lulled state, he bit her neck lightly, making her cry out as she felt his fingers deep inside her, his thumb working just above and it wasn't slow this time, it wasn't teasing or testing. She didn't need to place her hand on top of his and instead, he felt them clawing at his back desperately. She heard the hiss in his ear as she ran her fingernails over the top of his back which hadn't fully recovered from a few days before, but it was worth it to see her pursuing her pleasure with such abandon and he thought he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He hadn't had enough time before to fully appreciate how good she looked but now he had all the time in the world; she was in his arms, his house, his bed for as long as he wanted.

The fire flooded higher and higher up her body as his fingers worked deeper. It felt like her whole body was burning with the heat of it and her own pants were alien to her ears until Ross leaned down to murmur in her ear.

"You sound so fucking good….but I want you to say my name, Demelza. You're going come for me and you're going to say my name when you do."

It wasn't a statement, it wasn't a question, it was an order. And the thought of it sent a fresh flush between her legs as Ross bit her neck, licking and kissing frantically over and over, his moans reverberating over her chest, but when she felt the warmth wash over her uncontrollably, he lifted his head to look at her. This was what he'd wanted to see for so long and he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping slightly as he watched her pant his name before crying out louder than he'd ever heard, her head tossed back as she raked her nails down his upper arms hard enough to leave marks. It lasted for what seemed like minutes and he finally relaxed his hand, holding her to him as she slumped back on the bed tiredly, her eyelids fluttering as they exchanged kisses.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

She smiled as she heard him whisper in her ear, his nose nuzzling her neck lovingly as he ran his hands soothingly over her body which was still shaking a little. A laugh escaped her lips as she turned her head to face him and saw him watching her lazily. It made her smile.

"You like looking at me, don't you?"

He nodded and absently ran his hand over her hip and back up again.

"Maybe I'm looking for something."

She didn't know what to say to that, but it added to the warm glow she felt inside as she rested her head down on his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with every breath and she ran her hands softly over the light dusting of hair, coarse and rough under her hands. That was when she realised he still had his jeans on and looked up at him with a grin.

"You're not completely undressed like I am, that's not fair."

He pretended to sigh and got up, kneeling on the bed to unbuckle his belt. She was mesmerised for some reason as he pulled the strap slowly out of the buckle, but she reached a hand out to stop him. The corner of his mouth turned up as she unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the zip down with an odd metal scrape that filled the room, but once she'd done that, she didn't know what to do. Her hands felt cold all of a sudden and she paused, biting her lip as she looked up at him.

"Let's leave that there for the time being," he suggested with a smirk, moving back down to kiss her softly, enjoying the feeling of her soft, warm skin against his as he slipped his hand under her body, pulling her up even tighter into him. 'Mmmmm's escaped his lips as he buried his face in her neck, finally getting the time to explore her properly. A loud gasp was dragged from her as she felt his tongue on her nipples, sucking and swirling and even biting softly, made even more torturous by his soft blowing across her wet nipples, making her arch automatically up towards him. Her head was spinning with the feeling of his mouth and hands on her and she was questioning whether it could get any better until she heard buzzing from the side of the bed. Trying to sit up, she was pushed back down by a man with a very wicked smile.

"But, Ross! It could be Mr Enys!" she said in protest, reaching over for her phone, but he tossed it out of her reach onto a rug.

"Dwight can wait. We're in the middle of a very important lesson right now."

She couldn't help a giggle as Ross crawled up the bed again, meeting her mouth with his, his tongue coaxing hers slowly, deeply until she was unable to breathe, her hands running over his back to feel his muscles shifting as he reached down to spread her legs open comfortably. The raised lines from her scratches were instantly tangible under her palms, but his skin was smooth otherwise, heated and constantly moving under her hands. Most of all, the relaxation and laziness she felt when he kissed her was something she wasn't used to, especially when it was coupled with a mixed feeling of heightened alertness, acutely aware that his touch made her entire body feel heavenly. She'd never felt so fully relaxed in her life, nor had she ever agreed with doing what anyone told her. But Ross was full of possession, he ran his palms firmly over her when he touched her, cupped her face with his hand and pulled her up to meet him when he kissed her, instructed her with a voice so low only she could hear. And she loved it, she loved the feeling it sparked inside her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ross' fingers teasingly dancing between her legs again, igniting the same flame that had barely dimmed moments before. Between kisses, she reached down to guide his fingers deeper like before, but he pulled his hand away, using it instead to pull off his own jeans distractedly, never once moving his gaze away from her body. She looked so good under him, but he wanted to make her look as good as she had just then.

The only sound audible to him were her frustrated pants as her hips rocked upwards into his but he pressed her down into the bed with his body, grinding his hips slowly down into hers in response. He felt her entire body melt into his, her hands tightening on his back as she moaned loudly at the pure feeling of his hips tight against hers. He bit her lip hungrily as he slipped his hand down to pull her tighter against him, grinding slowly, deliberately against her.

"How does it feel when I do that?" he whispered into her ear, biting her earlobe too as she pressed kisses all over his shoulder, holding her to him.

She wasn't able to explain how good it felt to feel him so close to such an intimate part of her and only moaned in response, reaching down between them to touch herself, but brushing against him instead. The initial, unexpected contact made him growl against her ear and she didn't know why or where any of this courage came from, but she pulled back to look at him, exchanging a gaze that she hoped said more than any awkward phrase that would come out of her mouth.

"Both hands, up and down….slowly," he murmured instructively, locking eyes with her.

She bit her lip and did as he said. It felt strangely sensual to touch him like this and he felt different that she'd imagined. Her gaze wandered down between them, wanting to see how big he felt in her hands, but his voice was sharp and deep.

"Look at me, Demelza. Don't look away…..fuck…."

The last word was a cross between a growl and a whisper and he scrunched his eyes shut, moving his hips to work with her hands stroking up and down his length. It had been torment enough to keep his jeans on but this was too much. She kept her eyes on him as he'd ordered her to, her own body tingling with the idea that she could make him feel this way. Without his instruction, she moved her hands lower to explore even more of him, making him groan roughly against her lips, kissing her to try and stifle the sounds coming out of his mouth. Her hands worked faster on him and her bit her bottom lip, making her gasp a little.

"Inside me," she whispered desperately, unable to speak properly as she moved up against him, "inside me, Ross, please….."

At this, he reached down to pull her hands away from him, using his own to run himself slowly up and down the fresh wetness between her legs. His arm at her head ached from holding himself up above her, but he didn't care about anything other than Demelza and he felt he never could. She whined in desperation, reaching down for what felt like the twentieth time to pull him closer, but he grabbed her hand deftly, lacing his fingers with hers and pinning it down on the bed instead.

"Rule number one, remember?" he asked breathlessly, his own body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, "I decide when to give you what you want."

Her growl of frustration filled the entire room as she rocked her hips desperately, hoping that he would concede, her hand tugging at the chain around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. This time, her tongue moved against his urgently and he loved the feeling of her moving so perfectly under him. He was desperate to be inside her too, but he wouldn't let it show, at least not physically.

"Please, Ross, please," she begged in a repeated whisper, finding a rhythm against him, "please, Ross, I need it, I need it, Ross…"

His mouth turned up in satisfaction at the sound of that, pulling back to run his tongue over his lips, biting them as he dragged her eyes to his, holding her stare again.

"I want to watch you take me."

Demelza didn't even have time to react to how good she felt when he said that to her, and Ross loved it. He couldn't focus on how good it felt to be inside her because watching her felt even better, her pale skin in stark contrast to the dark sheets, her mouth open in a soundless gasp. Her entire body reacted to him and he wasn't slow this time, he was panting and urgent and passionate, met with her clawing nails on his back. Vibrations from his low, deep growls travelled over her body and her own moans were stifled by a kiss she never wanted to break from. Her hands slipped up his arms, over his warm skin covered in sweat as the bed shook underneath her and she wasn't aware her own voice could be so loud, though that was what Ross wanted. Her cries emboldened him as he pulled her hips closer to his on the bed, positioning himself to move deeper inside her, their breath mingling hotly, Demelza's hand tight on the chain around his neck to stop him pulling away.

"Mine….." he whispered, leaning down to ghost his lips over her neck, "mine, mine, mine…."

It took her moment to understand what he was saying and when she did, she kissed him deeply, pressing herself up into him to let him know that even though she couldn't speak, she wanted what he wanted. The flames that he'd fanned with his words rose higher and higher and Ross pulled back to look down at her, drinking her in one last time as he felt her convulse around him.

"Now, honey, now, do it for me now."

He bit his lip hard as he watched her, his words coming out between pants. He'd missed the chance last time and he knew she was so close, her hair tossed out wildly on the pillow, her body flushed a deep shade of pink, her fingers sinking into his arms as she rose up and pulled him down to kiss her. He held her hips to his roughly, burying himself deep one last time, feeling her around him so perfectly, like she was made for him. The contours of her body fit into his hands seamlessly even as she trembled, barely able to choke out his name. They stayed like that for some time, joined together, warm and sated, brushing their lips together ever so often as they breathed freely. The echoes of pleasure rippling through Demelza's body took time to subside and when she laid her head down on Ross' chest, tangling her fingers into the wiry hair she found there as his own chest rose and fell deeply.

He'd never felt fully sated after sex, never that affected by it and he was reluctant to admit that this was different. His eyes closed as he ran his hand over his face, wiping away the sweat, pushing his hair back as Demelza shifted on his chest, rubbing it up and down slowly, calmly until he felt happy, somehow. Their communication was wordless, but that was the way Ross liked it and she felt heavy on his chest, leading him to believe she'd fallen asleep already. She seemed immune to the environment around her as he slowly stroked her back, her skin like warm velvet under his hand, her hair tickling his neck.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by a loud buzzing that filled the room and he quickly picked up his phone, swiping tiredly to see who had been bothering them so incessantly. His eyes widened as he saw 12 notifications on his WhatsApp, opening it up to see Elizabeth's stream of texts, which began and ended with a picture of the Metro's front page. Messages all in caps filled the screen as he scrolled and he could almost feel her standing next to him yelling. He sighed and set the phone aside, running his hand over his face again, wondering how and when he should speak to Elizabeth and what exactly he should say to her. He didn't even know where to begin, or what the papers would make of it, especially if Elizabeth went to them first.

Demelza, however, was oblivious to the storm gathering in Ross' mind. She was awake but very still, staring across the room at the bathroom door. The warm feeling hadn't completely subsided, but it was mixed with a dull ache, which she was familiar with from before. But the ache brought with it reality and all the horrid things associated with it. Ross was right, Cornwall had been a little bubble and now they were back in London, it was the real world. She couldn't deny that what she'd just shared with Ross had been wonderful, perfect, special, possibly the best sex she'd ever had and definitely the most turned on she'd ever been. But the real world was different, and it wasn't just Ross and Demelza, but they were a big part of it. He'd apologised for the things he'd said back in Nampara, but was an apology really enough? He'd said sorry for shouting at her, but what about the things he'd said about them not working, being so different? These thoughts had swam around her head when she'd spoken to Jinny this morning and her friend had only reiterated her worst fears.

"Ross?"

He looked down at her in surprise. He hadn't expected her to be awake, but he settled his hand under his head and looked up at the bed's canopy, yawning quietly.

"Yes?"

She sat up and picked up her dress underneath her on the bed, getting back into it and tying the bow slowly before turning to him. Her eyes were tired and red, but her jaw was set in hard determination.

"You can't do this to me. You can't do this, have sex with me, make me feel special after you fucked me over."

Her voice was matter of fact and Ross sat up in confusion, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what was coming.

"What the….Demelza, I apologised, I said I was sorry. I know you were trying to help me, what else do you want me to say?" he asked quietly, locking eyes with her.

"You apologised for getting mad about me suggesting Francis, you never apologised for saying that I was sick and twisted and that I was being selfish. You never said sorry for saying that I want to chain you to me or that we're too different to work together."

Her voice was a cold and bitter now, rising over the crackling of the fireplace, ripping through the warm, quiet atmosphere they'd carefully constructed, reverberating in his ears like cymbals crashing. A red flush blossomed over her face and she was close to crying as she forcibly recounted all the things she remembered from that night in Nampara. She looked at Ross for a reaction, but got none. He was thinking it over too, recalling how harsh he had been to her, how he had pointed out the stark differences between them and why they wouldn't be good together.

"There was truth in that, though, Demelza," he murmured quietly, looking at her, "you did want to keep me all to yourself and I can be with you, but I need you to know that this isn't a romantic movie, you can't own me and I can't own you, that's not how I work."

She wanted to laugh now, but suddenly felt very, very stupid. The bed felt too hot, too sticky and humid and she got up, tying her hair back up as she looked down at him.

"Then why did you tell me over and over that I'm yours if you can't be mine? Do you think it's funny? Do you think this is all a game? Yell at her one night, fuck her the other night, it doesn't matter, she'll be happy either way!"

Ross felt the urge to laugh at Demelza's toff-inspired impression of him, but he knew this wasn't the time. She had misunderstood him. Perhaps he was a hypocrite – in fact, he was a huge hypocrite, but Demelza knew him better than that.

"Demelza, that's not how I feel about you. I just…..say things in the heat of the moment, you know what I'm like."

"The heat of the moment? Which moment? This one, or the yelling session we had? Were you lying now, or then? Either way, it doesn't make much difference. You can't tell me that we don't fit together and walk out on me, then turn on the charm when it suits you and expect that I'll come running back like a lost puppy. I'm a lawyer, Ross, and no matter how hard my career just got fucked up the ass because of you, I have spent my entire life working day in, day out to excel, succeed and be the best I can be, and you know what that requires?" she stated, picking up her phone from the rug as she turned around, "Self belief. Confidence. Indestructibility. The idea that no one can fuck with you or your emotions without having their ass dragged."

"Demelza—"

"You've been the exception. I let you fuck with me because you were something I'd never seen before in my life and I was taken in by it all, but you cannot treat me like this, you cannot cut me off when you feel like it and string me along when you feel like it. No more you say jump, I say how high. You're not that important, Ross Poldark. You might have paparazzi at your door and people watching your every move and the entire population of planet Earth following you on Instagram, but you are not the centre of the world and you'd do well to remember that."

With that, she stamped out of the bedroom and slammed the door hard behind her. She wanted to show him that he wasn't the only one who could do temper tantrums, she could match him scream for scream. Sex wasn't magic, it couldn't fix anything, it could barely even put a plaster on the can of worms Ross had opened in Nampara. As good as Ross had felt on her, inside her, it was nothing compared to how deficient she had come to feel after their argument.

The entire room echoed with the force of the door and Ross stared speechlessly at where Demelza had just been. Not half an hour ago, they'd been joined together so intimately, exploring the depths of pleasure with each other, an experience that Ross had never had with anyone else he'd slept with. Now his girlfriend was on his case, the media wanted to shaft him royally and Demelza was mad at him for things that were his fault, but he didn't really know how to apologise for. He closed his eyes and fell back onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a thump. The sheets were suddenly colder now that Demelza had left and her words still echoed in his ears like a building crashing down around him. She was right, he knew she was right, he was an entitled, egoistic bastard, but he'd never been anything else. And people had always accepted his emotional manipulation, glorified it, even. And he'd never, ever learned how to say sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

The crying stage had come and gone overnight and Demelza was much more at peace with what had happened the night before. She was in her usual spot, looking over sentencing information for Francis that Dwight had sent her. They were working together to make sure he got the longest sentence possible, as well as working against points that George might use to appeal against the sentence and she'd already made considerable progress.

The niggling thought at the back of her mind was still there, though. She'd fought a successful campaign of active cold shouldering with Ross all morning and he'd been fine with that, annoyingly enough. He was away right now, he hadn't really told her why he was going out and she couldn't ask, it wasn't as if he was wearing an ankle tag anymore. Jim had made her lunch and it was close to late afternoon now. Her feet tapped on the floor in frustration. She didn't want to talk to him but she wanted him here so he knew that she didn't want to talk to him.

"You're being childish," came Jim's voice from the living room. She turned and glared at him from where he was sitting on the couch watching TV.

"What is to you?" she asked grumpily, turning around to arrange her papers.

"Look, Ross is a hard guy to be with, okay? I know that. I live with him, I work for him, I know he's not the best, most perfect guy in the world, but whatever's happening between you two, you're not going to resolve it by staring moodily at each other over the playground. You're adults, talk to each other and fix it."

"He's not prepared to talk. I tried last night," sighed Demelza, getting up to walk over to Jim.

"Talk? Is that what you were doing last night? Because it sounded more like yelling to me," he said with raised eyebrows, looking up at her judgementally, "I'm not one to gossip or eavesdrop, but Ross gets off on arguing, it makes him feel important and that's exactly what you don't want him to feel, right? You want him to speak to you on a level playing field, have a calm, adult conversation about how you're feeling. And you're the one that's gonna have to instigate that."

"Why should I? If it's his fault, surely he should do something about it?" she asked sulkily, sitting down next to Jim to steal his crisps. She wrapped herself in a nearby blanket and snuggled up, staring at the TV too.

"What? You want Ross to admit he's wrong?" snorted Jim, "Ross would burn in the seventh level of hell for all eternity but would never admit he's wrong. He'll go forever just taking your silent treatment because it's the easiest route for him. His motto in life is 'I don't give a shit,' and he never does. He's true to his word in that respect."

Demelza was about to reply until she heard the door slam and sighed, staring at the TV and trying to divert her eyes from the newest arrival.

"Ross! How did it go?!" called Jim as he heard the shuffle of his friend's boots in the hallway.

Ross appeared in the living room like a ghostly apparition, tossing himself down on the couch carelessly, his face contorted in irritation.

"Ridiculous, like I thought it would. Worst possible confrontation I've ever had with anyone, I just thank God it was somewhere private. It was a good move on my part to pick her house rather than a café because she yelled so loud I felt like the windows might break. It took forever and most of it was just yelling. I still don't know if the situation is any different from what it was before."

Jim was surprised at Ross' honesty in front of Demelza and raised his eyebrows, looking over at Demelza who stared straight ahead as if nothing had happened.

"Well…maybe round two is needed?" asked Jim curiously, tossing Ross a pack of cigarettes.

"Are you kidding? You want me to walk back into a hurricane? Is that what you want?" asked Ross incredulously, looking over at Jim.

"No, I just think that you should wait until she's cooled down and see if you get anywhere. Elizabeth is melodramatic, she loves creating a scene but maybe you should let her relax a bit and see if she's open to talking about it again."

"Elizabeth doesn't talk, she yells. I couldn't get a word in edgeways after my first sentence and I'm not willing to repeat that. I said what I had to say and if she's pissed with me, then she's pissed with me, I can't do anything about that."

Demelza narrowed her eyes at the TV, seething at his words. She knew he was speaking about Elizabeth, but the last sentence could very well apply to her too. She also knew Jim was looking at her for a reaction but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Now that Ross was back, she was very much enjoying showing him that she didn't want to talk to him.

Jim looked between them and sighed, getting up.

"Okay, whatever, you two sit there all night like repelling magnets, I'm going to bed."

"What?! But it's only 7 PM!" exclaimed Ross, flailing his hands around unnecessarily.

"So what?" Jim raised his eyebrows. "It's not as if I'm going to do anything productive here, is it? At least there's Netflix in my bedroom."

With that, Jim waved his hand generally at both of them and stomped up the stairs, leaving them sitting quietly staring at the blaring TV, which seemed to be an oddly soothing presence for Demelza. It felt like there was someone else in the room, not just the two of them staring at each other awkwardly.

Ross, however, didn't do awkward. It wasn't a word in his dictionary. He yawned and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it before picking a book up from a nearby table. He laid the book down on his thigh and slithered down the couch so he was half sitting, half lying as he flicked through the pages studiously.

"Best way to prevent arm pain, never pick the book up in the first place."

Demelza ignored his quip and continued staring at the TV, flicking over to the news channel. There wasn't much on and she was bored, she thought she might head off to sleep, but it was only 8 PM. She didn't feel like working either. However, she could make dinner and she wasn't that cruel, she'd make it for Ross too, she thought. She hoped he wouldn't see it as the extension of an olive branch, but it was basic human rights to be fed.

The next hour was spent carefully crafting a chicken and sweetcorn pie in the kitchen and she had to admit, she loved cooking in this kitchen. It was much more clean and convenient than her own and there were so many utensils here that she wished she had. Granted, she didn't know what many of them did, but she had fun finding out, even if it meant flour spilled all over her yellow dress. She was a little annoyed that Ross hadn't ventured into the kitchen once to see what she was doing, especially since he loved food so much. Once the plate was arranged with generous portions of pie and seasoned chips, she walked in and set his primly down in front of him on the table, setting hers down too before fetching glasses and drinks. He was still slumped on the couch lazily, looking over at the steaming plate with interest.

"Pie?" he asked uselessly.

She turned to glare at him and caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, pie."

Before she could turn to pick her plate up and walk away, Ross kicked his legs up on the table, blocking her path. She turned to raise her eyebrows at him in anger.

"Get out of my way."

"I'm not in your way, I'm resting. My house, my rules, right?"

Demelza fumed at this, setting her hands on her hips like an angry grandmother.

"Stop being so childish. I'm your lawyer, I could put you in prison for something stupid like tax evasion."

"Go ahead and do it, then."

He shrugged and continued smoking the last of his cigarette, stubbing it out on the sidetable's ashtray, but still refusing to move his legs. It was the first time she'd looked at him properly all day and he did look good. He was wearing his usual black jeans and a light blue shirt, the buttons of which were straining against his chest. His hair was splayed out wildly on the couch like a halo and his posture caused his shirt to lift up slightly, exposing the waistband of his boxers. Demelza bit her lip as he looked her over and he was aware of her gaze. The worst part about him wasn't his clothes or how he was sitting, but the look on his face. It was the same careless, whatever expression, but his eyes were dark and sparkled wickedly, one eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth turned up in a barely there grin. He lifted his hand out to her.

Against her better judgement, she took it and stepped over his extended legs, sitting across his lap as he set his boots down on the floor, taking both her hands. She watched as he brought them to his lips, kissing them softly but never breaking eye contact. A smile ghosted across her lips at that and he set her hands down on his chest before setting his own on her thighs, resting back against the couch to look at her. It felt good to have her so close to him, he was worried she wouldn't want to be near him intimately after last night. He settled back against the couch comfortably, just enjoying the feeling of her on his lap as he slipped his hands under her dress, lazily stroking her thighs. She leaned forward to kiss him softly, brushing her lips against his.

"Do we have a détente?" he murmured cheekily, kissing her back.

She paused and Ross immediately regretted it. He shouldn't never have brought up their fight.

"Were we at war?" she asked smoothly, sitting back up.

He shrugged and continued trailing his fingers affectionately up and down her thighs.

"You were. You've been ignoring me all day."

"You haven't tried to talk to me."

"Well, one look at you told me you didn't want to talk to me."

He was going to continue but he bit his tongue at the look on Demelza's face. One more word could land him in four weeks' worth of detention and that was not something he was prepared for. He sighed and sat back again, looking up at her. She could see he had his serious face on, with his jaw forming a sharp line and his eyes less impish than before.

"Is this going to be another useless apology?" she asked quietly. It sounded funny, but she wasn't laughing.

"No. I was a bit of an arse. Actually, a lot of an arse yesterday. What you said was right, the world doesn't revolve around me and I'm not the most important person in the universe. But right now? This? The atmosphere I have around me, the cameras outside my house every morning, my pictures in the newspaper, this is my life. I'm not God, but people want to know what I'm doing, where I'm going, what I'm wearing. I'm a public figure."

"And that gives you license to be an idiot? I understand your situation, I do, but that doesn't mean that you can go around accusing people. I know you're not an animal, I don't want to cage you and let you out whenever I want to play with you, but that's what you seem to be doing with me."

Her tone was steadily becoming laced with anger and she was fighting to keep still on his lap. He was massaging her skin soothingly with his thumbs and she tried not to think about how warm and good his hands felt on her. He sighed and relaxed further into the couch, looking up at her plainly.

"If I've made you feel like that, I certainly didn't mean to. I'm not special, I'm just lucky. I'm lucky to be who I am, I'm lucky to have what I have but most of all, I'm lucky to have you. I know I said that we don't work together and we are very different, I have to admit. We're almost total opposites, you get annoyed by almost everything I do and I find everything you do quite…..curious—"

He paused at the suppressed grin on Demelza's face.

"Exactly. You see, I don't get why you're smiling, but anyway. Maybe we could make this work, yeah? You and me, we could make a go of it, try to make it work. I think you're good for me. I feel good when I'm around you and I know you feel good when you're around me. I can make you feel good anyway."

The twinkle was back in his eyes and Demelza laughed a little, tucking her hair behind her ear. She wasn't expecting his honesty, again, but it was nice to hear. It was good to hear him address the issues she'd been upset about the night before, and to know that he'd tried to end it with Elizabeth. Maybe now they could go back to the happy day or so they'd experienced in Cornwall. He smiled at her and continued stroking her soft skin. It was almost like a comfort blanket for him. He liked having her around, it made him feel different.

"And what about that newspaper?" she asked in sudden worry, the smile vanishing from her face as he looked down at him.

"What about it?" he shrugged carelessly, "It's just a picture."

"It's a picture of you and me holding hands," she said sternly, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, "Mr Enys wasn't very happy about it, he said we shouldn't cause drama before the sentencing date."

"I've got a new girlfriend. That's hardly drama," he said, "if it bothers you so much, I'll speak to Dwight about it tomorrow. I'm sure he has a way of getting everyone to calm down about it. Besides, I can give you a crash course in a day in the life of Ross Poldark. When I'm not being arrested for murder, that is."

She nodded, but he could tell she was still thinking about it. He squeezed her thighs gently to draw her attention back to him.

"What's got you thinking so much?" he asked.

"Nothing," she mused, "just that you're very honest and you seem to know me quite well. I do feel good around you. I feel different. Especially since I'm apparently now your girlfriend."

A cheeky grin crossed her lips and he laughed, a low, deep rumble in his chest. He said nothing, but pulled her closer by her thighs, just looking up at her. She frowned for a moment, wondering why he wasn't replying, then realised how dark his eyes had become. His intense gaze washed over her powerfully, causing her to flush a little. It felt good when he looked at her like that and she knew she was making a big mistake, considering how she'd just tumbled into bed without thinking it through the night before, but she couldn't help it. He just looked at her like she was something he'd never seen before, and most of all, looked at her like he wanted to devour her whole.

She took the lead this time, taking his hand on her thigh and moving it up under her dress with a grin. His mouth turned up too and their lips met, kissing softly at first until she broke away to move closer to him, grinding her hips slowly with the movement of his hands, but he held her back with a firm hand at her hip, lying back comfortably against the cushions.

"I want to watch you."

His voice was low, but loud enough to send shivers down her spine and she sat back as he requested. His fingers were slow this time, but enough to make her bite her lip to stifle a moan. He smirked at this and she leaned forward to admonish him with a kiss until the doorbell rang. Ross groaned and reluctantly pulled his hand out from under her dress.

"Jim! Jim, can you get the door?"

There was no answer and Demelza laughed, catching her breath as she clambered off his lap.

"Jim's asleep. I guess you'll just have to ask your other servant to do it."

He laughed and attempted to smack her on the behind as she skipped away, but she avoided it masterfully. The banging became more and more incessant as Demelza made her way towards the front door and she was slightly worried about who was calling so late in the evening, especially since Ross hadn't told her he was expecting visitors. Perhaps it was one of his friends who didn't get the memo that poker night had been cancelled.

She reached forward to open the door, but as soon as she turned the handle, the door seemed to fly off its hinges by itself.

"Ross! I've be….."

Demelza stopped dead and stared at the doorway to see Elizabeth standing there in all her finery. Her face was a red mess of tears, but her hair was perfectly coiffured and she was wearing what Demelza thought was the prettiest pink lace dress she'd ever seen and the same pair of pink, sparkly heels she'd worn before. While she spent time looking over her fashion choices, Elizabeth's face had soured and she stepped without being invited. Demelza was about to protest but Elizabeth swept past her elegantly in a blur of pink, and into the living room to address Ross directly.

"Elizabeth, God, what are you doing here?!" he said quickly, getting up to face her.

Elizabeth's face was set in a permanent sneer now as she looked between Ross and Demelza.

"I came here to talk to you, I've been calling and texting you since you walked out on me this morning. What is she doing here? I thought the trial was over."

Ross sighed and stepped forward, rubbing his forehead in irritation.

"Look, Elizabeth, now isn't a good time, okay? Can we leave this until tomorrow?"

"No, we can't."

She stepped forward too, her eyes welling up again and Demelza could tell they were tears of anger, not sadness.

"No, we can't," she repeated carefully, her voice steady, "you can't just tell me that you're breaking up with me and not tell me why. You can't do that, Ross. And don't tell me you can do whatever you want because with me, you can't and you know that."

Demelza bit her lip and wanted to leave the room. It felt too personal for her to stay here but moving would only draw attention to herself. She was sorely aware that she was the reason why Ross had broken up with Elizabeth and she'd never felt bad about it before. She'd always seen Elizabeth as an annoying, laughable, clingy caricature and in the process, forgotten that she was actually a real person.

"Well, Ross?" came Elizabeth's voice as Ross looked down at his feet, trying to find a way to articulate himself, "What are you going to say? I've said it's over, so it's over? Or I don't want to talk about this right now? How are you going to evade the question this time?"

Her voice was explicitly accusatory and her tears had stopped now. She wiped her face quickly and squared up to him again, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were sad and he wanted to say sorry but it just wouldn't come out.

"We've been together for a year and a half. We've done so much shit together, we've been through so much together and all throughout your rehab, your idiotic escapades, your murder trial, I have stood by you, followed you everywhere and I deserve an explanation. If you don't want to be with me anymore, that's fine, it's your choice to make, but I need to know why. Is this why?"

She gestured towards Demelza and she blanched, biting her lip. Ross followed Elizabeth's arm and his jaw hardened.

"Yes. I've moved on, Elizabeth. We all need to accept it and do the same."

Elizabeth's snort was the most derisive Ross had ever heard.

"Accept it? I would have accepted it if you'd have shacked up with her after you'd dumped me, but no, you cheated on me and you didn't have the guts to break up with me first, or even tell me."

Demelza closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. She knew what she and Ross had been doing wasn't exactly moral, but she never thought anything of it, mainly because she'd always seen Elizabeth as irritating and silly. She regretted that now. She looked over at Ross, who was also similarly sorrowful, running his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth while Elizabeth talked. Her composure, on the other hand, was calmer than before and she set her hand bag down on the couch smartly, turning to address Ross where he was pacing.

"Say I'm okay with it, say I've accepted it and moved on, like you said. But what the fuck are you doing with her? I'm sorry, Demelza, but I don't know why you've been suckered into this bullshit."

She tossed her hair back and Demelza thought for a moment how pretty she looked even when she was angry. Elizabeth turned to address her and Demelza bristled a little, standing up straight.

"I—"

"No, Demelza, you let me speak. I've had more experience in the Ross department than you have and let me tell you, if I can't handle someone like him, I don't think you can. I'm part of his little circle, I live the same life he lives. You don't. How long have you spent with him? A few days? A week? I've been with him for over a year and known him for even longer. He's not an easy man to be with, he has more issues than Vogue, a drug problem, a stick up his ass and a permanent God complex. Not to mention his inability to express his feelings more than a six month old baby having a tantrum and his omission of the word 'sorry' from his personal dictionary."

Elizabeth's words were laced with spite and there was a sense that she'd just been waiting to say all this. Ross spun around at this and the fire in his eyes was tangible. He squared up to Elizabeth and Demelza felt her legs go weak. Her head started to spin as she tried to comprehend what Elizabeth had said to her and the pure truth of it all.

"How dare you? How dare you come into my house uninvited and try to fuck everything up?!" yelled Ross, his body trembling with anger. His eyes were dark, but not the same kind of dark Demelza had seen before. The loud yell terrified her and triggered reflex reactions in her as she flinched. He was fully aware that the delicate peace he'd just brokered with Demelza was falling apart in front of his eyes and he couldn't let that happen. Elizabeth laughed carelessly and stood up against him, like the many times they'd argued. But those times, they were petty and trivial. There were bigger things at stake here.

"Fuck everything up? Oh, I'm sorry, did I disturb a little session? Was he trying to feed you all this spiel about how he really wants to make it work and he's sorry for what he said before? Did he tell you he'd try to fix it? Let me tell you, Demelza, as a friend who means well, Ross' first and only love is himself. If you think he'll put you before him, you're wrong. He's an absolute mess and no matter who tells him, he doesn't care. Yeah, he hasn't had the easiest life but he should at least try to get himself together. He has no excuses. You're a nice girl, I'm not blaming you, don't think that I'm bitter because in some ways I'm relieved. I just don't want him to fuck you over like he did to me. You're a successful lawyer and you probably deserve better than being fed lies by someone like him."

Elizabeth turned away from her, unfeeling about her reaction and picked her bag up from the seat. She fished a piece of paper and a pen out of it, writing something down and walking over to set it on the table near Demelza. She turned and walked to the hallway and to face them both

"Do what you want, Ross. I'm done now, okay? Just don't fuck everything up like you always do. You have problems, personal problems that only you can solve. Don't try to inflict them on other people. Girlfriends are not plasters, you can't just stick them on wounds and hope it gets better."

With that, she turned on her heel and click clacked down the hallway, seeing herself out. The door echoed as it closed and the whole room reverberated with the sound. Ross and Demelza were silent, and that was when Ross realised she was crying. Soundless tears made their way down her flushed cheeks and she stared at the floor. Barely moments before, she'd been sitting on Ross' lap, happy as could be, happy that they would at least try to make a go of it. She'd attempted to put their past argument behind her. Sure, he'd said some awful things but so had she and he'd accepted that they were different, but had said he was willing to make this work.

It was just her stupid little fantasy replaying itself, the same fantasy she'd admonished herself for thinking about when she'd been in Nampara. Ross' words echoed in her mind. This is the real world, life wasn't as simple as what she'd been thinking and she was a fool for thinking it. The same thing had happened, almost like a cycle; she'd been sucked in by things he'd said and done and made a choice against her better judgement. The worst part was that she couldn't fault anything Elizabeth had said. Despite how much Demelza might laugh at her, Elizabeth had indeed been with Ross and known him for longer than Demelza had. Elizabeth had seen past the fantasy and into the reality. None of what she was saying was wrong. Ross did have a drug habit and that was something Demelza had tried to ignore. His oddly rapid speed of apologising made her feel like he didn't really understand what he was even saying sorry for, almost like it was a reflex when he saw he'd upset her. And in all that time she'd been with him, apart from his performance of arrogance and pretension, she'd never felt like she truly got him. She knew he'd had problems in his life and maybe Elizabeth was right, he needed to solve them himself. She'd never felt like he was using her as a bandage, but maybe she'd just been so okay with it, she'd never realised.

She felt him move towards her and his gait was slow, his posture softened, his expression warm. She knew he wanted to console her.

"Honey, I didn't know she was going to come over and say things like that….if I'd have known, I would have spoken to her myself. You didn't deserve to hear all that, I—"

He paused as she leaned forward to pick up the paper Elizabeth had left on the table with a blank face, and it was as if she hadn't heard anything he'd said. She looked down to see a hastily scribbled mobile phone number. She folded the scrunched paper carefully and walked past Ross' open arms and up the stairs.


End file.
